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The color Plates have been placed between scenes. The List of Plates shows their original locations.
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THE BEGGAR’S OPERA
Contents
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To J. G. and to G. L. F., without whom I should have been powerless, do I dedicate my share in this book. C. L. F.
To J. G. and G. L. F., without whom I would have been powerless, I dedicate my contribution to this book. C. L. F.
Note.—The Text here given is taken from the edition of 1765. The scenes have been re-numbered in the modern method denoting actual changes of place or intervals of time.
Note.—The text provided here is from the 1765 edition. The scenes have been renumbered using the modern method that indicates actual changes of location or time intervals.
First published September 1921
First published September 1921
New Impression October 1921
New Impression October 2021
LIST OF THE PLATES
| I. | THE BEGGAR | Frontispiece | |
| II. | MRS. PEACHUM | To face page | 6 |
| III. | POLLY PEACHUM | „ | 18 |
| IV. | SCENE: A TAVERN NEAR NEWGATE | „ | 28 |
| V. | CAPTAIN MACHEATH | „ | 40 |
| VI. | LUCY LOCKIT | „ | 56 |
| VII. | PEACHUM | „ | 70 |
| VIII. | LOCKIT | „ | 82 |
CLAUD LOVAT FRASER
That when I die this word may stand for me—
That when I die, this word may represent me—
He had a heart to praise, an eye to see,
He had a heart for praise, an eye to see,
And beauty was his king.
And beauty was his ruler.
Dead at the age of thirty-one after a sudden operation, Claud Lovat Fraser was as surely a victim of the war as though he had fallen in action. He was full of vigour for his work, but shell-shock had left him with a heart that could not stand a strain of this kind, and all his own fine courage could not help the surgeons in a losing fight. We are not sorry for him—we learn that, not to be sorry for the dead. But for ourselves? This terror is always so fresh, so unexampled. I had telephoned to him to ask whether he would help me in a certain theatrical enterprise. I was told by his servant that he was ill, but one hears these things so often that one gave but little thought to it beyond sending a telegram asking for news; and now this. Personal griefs are of no public interest, but here is as sad a public loss as has befallen us, if the world can measure truly, in our generation.
Deceased at thirty-one after a sudden surgery, Claud Lovat Fraser was just as much a casualty of the war as if he had died in battle. He was full of passion for his work, but the trauma of war had left him with a heart that couldn't handle such pressure, and no amount of his bravery could assist the surgeons in a losing struggle. We don't feel sorry for him—we learn that we shouldn't grieve for the dead. But what about us? This horror always feels so immediate, so unprecedented. I had called him to see if he would help me with a certain theater project. His servant told me he was unwell, but we hear that kind of thing so often that I didn’t think much of it apart from sending a telegram for updates; and now this. Personal sorrows don't concern the public, but this is one of the saddest losses we've experienced as a society, if the world can truly measure such things in our time.
But it is not, I think, of our loss that we should speak now. These desolations, strangely, have a way of bringing their own fortitude. A few hours after hearing, without any warning, of Lovat Fraser’s death, I was walking among the English landscape that he loved so well, and I felt there how poor and inadequate a thing death really was, how little to be feared. This apparent intention to destroy a life and genius so young, so admirable, and so rich in promise, seemed, for all the hurt, in some way wholly to have failed. We all knew that, given health, the next ten years would show a splendid volume of work from the new power and understanding to which he had been coming in these later days. But just as it seems to me not the occasion to lament our own loss, so does it seem idle to speculate with regret upon what art may have lost by this sudden 2 stroke. It is, rather, well to be glad that so few years have borne so abundantly. Not only is the work that Lovat Fraser has left full in volume, it is decisive in character beyond all likelihood in one of his years. Greatly as he would have added to our delight, and wider as his influence would have grown, nothing he might have done could have added to our knowledge of the kind of distinction that was his and that will always mark his fame.
But I think now is not the time to talk about our loss. These hardships have a strange way of bringing their own strength. A few hours after hearing, without any warning, about Lovat Fraser’s death, I was walking through the English landscape that he loved so much, and I realized how trivial and inadequate death really is, how little we should fear it. This seeming attempt to take away a life and talent that were so young, so admirable, and so full of promise felt, despite the pain, to have completely failed. We all knew that, if he had stayed healthy, the next ten years would have produced a remarkable body of work from the newfound power and understanding he had been developing in recent times. But just as it doesn’t seem right to mourn our own loss, it also seems pointless to regret what art may have lost due to this sudden blow. Instead, it’s better to be grateful that such a young life has produced so much. Not only is the work Lovat Fraser left behind abundant, but it's also significant in a way that is extraordinary for someone his age. While he would have greatly enhanced our joy, and his influence would have expanded, nothing he could have done would have added to our appreciation of the kind of distinction that was uniquely his and that will always define his legacy.
The man himself had a charm of unusual definition. One might go to his studio at five o’clock and find him lumbering with his great frame among a chaos of the rare and curious books that he loved, stacked pell-mell on to the shelves, littered on tables and the floor, his clothes and face and fingers streaked with paint. And then an hour or two later he would come dressed ready for the theatre, an immaculate beau of the ’fifties, his top coat with waist and skirts, his opera hat made to special order by a Bond Street expert on an 1850 last. And then, before setting off, he would talk of some fellow-artist who was a little down and out, and wonder whether some of his drawings might not be bought at a few guineas apiece. Then to book, as it were, such an order gave salt to his evening, and if the evening meant contact with some of his own exquisite work, a word of admiration was taken with that wistful gratitude that it is now almost unbearable to remember.
The man had a charm that was quite distinctive. You might visit his studio at five o'clock and find him clumsily navigating his large frame amid a jumble of rare and fascinating books he loved, stacked haphazardly on shelves, scattered across tables and the floor, with paint smudged on his clothes, face, and fingers. Then, an hour or two later, he would come out dressed for the theater, looking like a polished gentleman from the '50s, his long coat fitted at the waist with flowing skirts, his opera hat custom-made by a Bond Street expert on an 1850 mold. Before heading out, he'd talk about some fellow artist who was struggling and ponder whether some of his drawings could be bought for a few guineas each. To secure such an order added excitement to his evening, and if the evening involved engaging with some of his own exquisite work, a word of admiration was received with a wistful gratitude that’s almost too painful to remember now.
The theatre is a complex, co-operative affair, and it is idle to inquire who gives more than another to it. But on one side of its effort nobody in these later years has fought for light and beauty more surely and courageously than Claud Lovat Fraser. Like every fine artist, he was sometimes a little puzzled, a little hurt, that the critics could not see the clear motives inspiring his work. But the purpose never faltered. As You Like It, The Beggar’s Opera, If, the exquisite designs for Madame Karsavina’s later ballets—these made it plain enough that a new genius of extraordinary power and fertility was at work on the stage. With a knowledge of tradition that combined the widest learning with profound intuition, Lovat Fraser in his design touched the life of five 3 hundred years with the English spirit of our own time, with a certainty that every one of his colleagues, I know, will be proud to allow was beyond them all. The fertility of which I speak was perhaps his peculiar distinction, and it had no touch of common facility. He could not draw a line that was not hard with thought and rooted in imaginative decision. But he could invent with immense rapidity. It was the old, though rare, story. Alike in his theatre design and his tender landscape, beauty of spirit flowed in everything he did into beauty of execution. He was a man in whose presence everything mean or slipshod withered.
The theater is a complex, collaborative effort, and it's pointless to argue who contributes more than others. However, in recent years, no one has fought for light and beauty more surely and bravely than Claud Lovat Fraser. Like every great artist, he was sometimes a bit confused and hurt that critics couldn’t see the clear inspirations behind his work. But his purpose never wavered. As You Like It, The Beggar’s Opera, If, and the beautiful designs for Madame Karsavina’s later ballets made it clear that a new genius of extraordinary talent and creativity was active on stage. With a knowledge of tradition that blended extensive learning with deep intuition, Lovat Fraser’s designs connected the spirit of five hundred years of English culture with our own time, with a certainty that everyone in his field, I know, will acknowledge was unmatched. The creativity I’m talking about was perhaps his unique trait, and it wasn't just a matter of easy productivity. Every line he drew was filled with thought and grounded in imaginative choices. Yet, he could invent with tremendous speed. It was the classic, albeit rare, story. Whether in his theater designs or gentle landscapes, the beauty of spirit in everything he created flowed seamlessly into beauty of execution. He was a person in whose presence everything dull or careless faded away.
But perhaps it is most fitting at this time that we should think of our dead friend in yet another way. We are governed by two influences, our own character, and example. For each man his own character is for his meditation apart, but of example we may sometimes speak together in the open with profit. Those of us who live always striving towards creative effort believe passionately that the thing towards which we aim makes for all that is most chivalrous and most intelligent in life, that it is indeed the one true honesty in the world. And yet we know how easily that effort is beset by fears and jealousies and failure in generosity, how lightly we who should together give all our energy to the service of our art, waste it in little concerns of spite and self-interest. And it is in just such ways as this that great example may serve us nobly, and there has surely never lived an artist in whom such example more clearly shone. Art, which for him embraced and crystallised all that was brave and adventurous and tender, was the worship of Lovat Fraser’s life, a worship which he kept with an absolute loyalty.
But maybe it's most appropriate at this moment to think of our late friend in another way. We're influenced by two things: our own character and the examples set for us. Each person's character is something for personal reflection, but we can often discuss examples openly together to our benefit. Those of us who are always striving for creative work believe wholeheartedly that the goals we pursue lead to the best aspects of bravery and intelligence in life, that it truly represents the deepest honesty in the world. Yet we also recognize how easily this pursuit can be hindered by fears, jealousy, and a lack of generosity. We, who should be dedicating all our energy to our art, often waste it on petty issues of spite and self-interest. It’s in these situations that a powerful example can inspire us greatly, and there has never been an artist in whom this example shone more brightly. Art, for him, encompassed and defined all that was courageous, adventurous, and compassionate, and it was the passion of Lovat Fraser's life, a devotion he maintained with unwavering loyalty.
It is my privilege to know most of the best artists, in all kinds, of my age. One has this distinction, another that. But I think that he had the loveliest of them all. I have known nobody who brought to his art a devotion so pure and utterly removed from self-interest. If he could serve the beauty that he loved, he was eager always to do so with perfect indifference to his own reward. Nobody could be with him for ten minutes without 4 feeling that art was a thing far greater than any artist. He had the lovely, humorous humility that is the one sure sign of greatness. One felt always that if he should think that another might do given work better than he, there could be for him nothing but distress if the best was not done, even though it meant the loss of personal opportunity. But it is one of the happy things of genius that this exquisite humility can only live with great creative gifts, so that Lovat Fraser knew from day to day the supreme joy of mastery. The humility, however, is our example, and the thought that seems most worthy to-day is that he stands at this moment, for all he was younger than most of us, as a challenging leader to us all. It will, I think, always be impossible to remember him without feeling that anything mean or grudging in the spirit in which we do our work is a betrayal and an intolerable thing. With all his gaiety, his fun, his simplicities, and his powers, he showed us not only what a fine artist can do but what a fine artist can be. And under his leadership at this moment may we not go back to our work in the world with renewed courage and faith,
It’s my privilege to know many of the best artists of my time, in all sorts of fields. Each has their own unique quality. But I believe he had the most beautiful of all. I’ve never encountered anyone who brought such pure devotion to their art, completely free of self-interest. If he could promote the beauty he loved, he was always eager to do so, entirely indifferent to his own gain. No one could be with him for ten minutes without feeling that art is something far greater than any artist. He had a delightful, humorous humility, which is the surest sign of greatness. It was always apparent that if he thought someone else could do a certain piece of work better than he could, it would trouble him deeply if the best wasn’t achieved, even if it meant sacrificing his own opportunity. Yet, one of the wonderful things about genius is that this exquisite humility can only exist alongside great creative gifts, so Lovat Fraser experienced the ultimate joy of mastery day by day. However, it’s his humility that serves as our example, and what seems most meaningful today is that, despite being younger than most of us, he stands as a challenging leader to all of us. I believe it will always be impossible to remember him without realizing that any mean or begrudging spirit in our work is a betrayal and simply unacceptable. With all his energy, humor, simplicity, and talent, he showed us not only what a great artist can accomplish but also what a great artist can be. And under his guidance at this moment, may we not return to our work in the world with renewed courage and faith.
“We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.”
“We few, we happy few, we group of brothers.”
For his fame none of us have any fear. There is in his public achievement and his portfolios a solid body of work that more and more must establish itself. However futile prophecy in these things must be, one is confident that a hundred years hence his name will be highly honoured among the little band who helped to bring back some life and truth to the English theatre of this age. He would wish for nothing better than that. And idle though it is to ask what his death, at little more than youth, may mean in the way of loss to the art that he lived for, his friends know that as dear a life as any of our time has gone suddenly, inexplicably, taking with it the tenderest love of every one who knew him. And he leaves with us an example without any stain.
For his fame, none of us are afraid. His public achievements and portfolio showcase a solid body of work that is increasingly recognized. No matter how pointless it may be to predict, I’m confident that a hundred years from now, his name will be well-respected among the small group who helped revive some life and truth in the English theatre of this time. That's all he would want. While it's pointless to speculate on what his death, at such a young age, means for the art he lived for, his friends know that a life as dear as any in our time has been lost suddenly and without explanation, taking with it the deep affection of everyone who knew him. He leaves us an example that is completely unblemished.
John Drinkwater.
John Drinkwater.
London,
Midsummer 1921.
London, Summer 1921
THE BEGGAR’S OPERA
NOTE ON THE SCENE AND COSTUMES AT THE LYRIC THEATRE, HAMMERSMITH
Superficially the task of staging The Beggar’s Opera was one of supreme ease. Indeed, so easy was it that it became a matter of some embarrassment to prune and select the required amount of data. Here was Hogarth and his actual scene of Newgate with Macheath in chains; here was Laroon’s Cries of London falling, in its edition of 1733, pat into the period; here was the National Portrait Gallery and, added to these, here was the benefit of all Mr. Charles E. Pearce’s research.1 After a month or two of work in designing, the ease became so marked and apparent that it engendered in me the beginnings of mistrust. Still, I persevered in scene and costume with historically accurate reproduction and, until three weeks before the actual work was due to be carried out at the costumier’s and in the painting shops, I felt comparatively cheerful. Then I reviewed my forces—the little scale models of the scenes, the characters in painted cardboard—all exact and accurate. Something was wrong and the result was, I confess, appalling. viii I had not made allowances either for my theatre or for my audience. I had forgotten that it required a spacious Georgian theatre, the intimacy of the side-boxes, the great personages sitting on the stage. The Duke of Bolton, Major Pauncefoot and Sir Robert Fagg were not in their places as in Hogarth’s painting; the pit would not be filled with tye-wigs and hoops and there would be a sharper line of division between the actors and the spectators than ever existed in 1728. Something else had to be done. As reproduction was a failure one would try to give an impression of the same thing. Impressionism proved even worse than accuracy. It was neither one thing nor the other. It merged into “making a picture of it”—a crime that is without parallel in the staging of a play. To make a pretty picture at the expense of drama is merely to pander to the voracity of the costumier and scene-painter.
On the surface the task of staging The Beggar’s Opera seemed really easy. In fact, it was so easy that it became somewhat embarrassing to decide which information to include. There was Hogarth's portrayal of Newgate with Macheath in chains; there was Laroon’s Cries of London, perfectly fitting the time in its 1733 edition; there was the National Portrait Gallery, and on top of that, I had all the benefits of Mr. Charles E. Pearce’s research.1 After a month or two of designing, the simplicity became so obvious that it made me suspicious. Still, I continued to focus on historically accurate scene and costume reproduction, and until three weeks before the actual work was set to happen at the costume shop and painting studios, I felt relatively optimistic. Then I took stock of what I had—the small scale models of the scenes, the characters made of painted cardboard—all exact and accurate. But something was off, and I have to admit, the result was shocking. viii I hadn’t considered my theatre or my audience. I overlooked the fact that it needed a spacious Georgian theatre, with the intimate side-boxes and important figures sitting on stage. The Duke of Bolton, Major Pauncefoot, and Sir Robert Fagg weren’t where they were in Hogarth’s painting; the pit wouldn’t be filled with powdered wigs and hoop skirts and there would be a clearer divide between the actors and the audience than existed in 1728. Something else had to be done. Since reproduction was a failure, I would try to give an impression of the same thing. But impressionism turned out to be even worse than accuracy. It was neither one thing nor the other. It became about “making a picture of it”—a sin that is unparalleled in staging a play. Creating a pretty picture at the expense of drama is just catering to the greed of the costume designer and set painter.
What was then to be done? Added to all these objections was the important fact that I had designed scenes that would have seriously hampered the resources at Hammersmith. The theatre would have required more space for storage than could possibly have been given and, in addition, an army of stage hands would be wanted for whom there was not in this little theatre the accommodation.
What was there to do? On top of all these objections was the crucial fact that I had planned scenes that would have really strained the resources at Hammersmith. The theater would have needed more storage space than could possibly be provided, and on top of that, a whole crew of stagehands would be needed, for whom there wasn't enough room in this small theater.
The solution was, of course, to forget one’s past work, to scrap the models, and to start feverishly afresh. The only method left untried was the symbolic. That is to say, to hint at the eighteenth century and to suggest that through the doors on the stage existed the London of 1728. The scene demanded to be simple and one which, with slight modifications in doors and windows, remained before the audience for the whole action of the play. It was, therefore, to be a scene of which people did not easily tire and that remained interesting, unobtrusive ix and formally neat. To find such a scene it is necessary to refer back to days when the Comic and the Tragic scenes were architectural and permanent. This I did and, taking Palladio’s magnificent scene at Vicenza, by a shameless process of reductio ad absurdum, evolved the scene that is now in use at Hammersmith. Palladio and Gay have much to forgive.
The solution was, of course, to let go of past efforts, to scrap the models, and to start fresh with intense enthusiasm. The only approach that hadn’t been tried yet was the symbolic. In other words, to subtly reference the eighteenth century and suggest that behind the doors on stage was London in 1728. The scene needed to be simple and, with minor tweaks to the doors and windows, remain in view for the entire performance. It had to be a setting that audiences wouldn’t tire of quickly and that stayed engaging, unobtrusive, and formally tidy. To find such a scene, we needed to look back to times when both comic and tragic scenes had a permanent architectural presence. I did just that, and by using Palladio’s stunning design at Vicenza, I shamelessly created the scene that is now used in Hammersmith. Palladio and Gay have a lot to forgive.
So far the scene, but it called for a corresponding treatment in the dresses. In The Beggar’s Opera no one is in the height of fashion. Macheath and certain Ladies of the Town alone “keep Company with Lords and Gentlemen,” and even then there must have been apparent a distinction. Macheath is unaltered. Here it was essential to keep to tradition. Macheath in a blue coat is unthinkable. The rest of the characters are frankly in the neighbourhood of Newgate. The clothes of Peachum and Lockit would be as equally unfashionable and just as possible thirty years before as thirty years after 1728, whilst the footpads are clad in whatever Georgian rags that happened to come their way. With the women I have taken greater licence. I have kept faithfully to the outlines of the age, the close-fitting bodice, the flat hoops, the square-toed shoes, but I have taken considerable liberties in the manner in which I have shorn them of ribbons and laces and—for the sake of dramatic simplicity, be it remembered—I have eliminated yards of trimming.
So far the scene, but it needed a matching style in the costumes. In The Beggar’s Opera, nobody is dressed in the latest fashion. Macheath and a few Ladies of the Town are the only ones who “associate with Lords and Gentlemen,” and even then, there must have been a noticeable difference. Macheath remains unchanged. Here, it was crucial to stick to tradition. Macheath in a blue coat is out of the question. The other characters are clearly from around Newgate. The outfits of Peachum and Lockit would be just as out of style and equally reasonable thirty years before or after 1728, while the footpads wear whatever Georgian rags happen to come their way. With the women, I've taken more creative freedom. I have stuck closely to the shapes of the time, the fitted bodice, the flat hoops, the square-toed shoes, but I have made significant changes in how I removed ribbons and laces and—for the sake of dramatic simplicity, it should be noted—I have cut out yards of trimming.
Just so much explanation is, I consider, due to the public, but whether I have been justified by results or whether, under the sacred mask of Drama, I have erred unpardonably, are points which, so long as this revival draws attention to a forgotten masterpiece, can be of no very great importance.
I think a certain amount of explanation is owed to the public, but whether I've justified my choices by the results or whether, under the sacred guise of Drama, I've made unforgivable mistakes are questions that, as long as this revival brings attention to a forgotten masterpiece, aren't very significant.
C. Lovat Fraser.
C. Lovat Fraser.
Chelsea,
February 1921.
Chelsea, February 1921.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
| MEN. | |
|---|---|
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Mr. Peachum Lockit Macheath Filch |
|
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Jemmy Twitcher Crook-finger’d Jack Wat Dreary Robin of Bagshot Nimming Ned Harry Paddington Matt of the Mint |
|
Macheath’s Gang.
|
|
| Ben Budge | |
|
Beggar Player |
|
|
WOMEN. |
|
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Mrs. Peachum Polly Peachum Lucy Lockit Diana Trapes |
|
|
Mrs. Coaxer Dolly Trull Mrs. Vixen Betty Doxy Jenny Diver Mrs. Slammekin Suky Tawdry |
|
|
Women of the Town.
|
|
| Molly Brazen | |
Constables, Drawers, Turnkey, etc.
Constables, Clerks, Jailers, etc.
INTRODUCTION
BEGGAR, PLAYER.
Beggar.
If Poverty be a Title to Poetry, I am sure no-body can dispute mine. I own myself of the Company of Beggars; and I make one at their Weekly Festivals at St. Giles’s. I have a small Yearly Salary for my Catches, and am welcome to a Dinner there whenever I please, which is more than most Poets can say.
If poverty is a badge of honor for poets, I’m sure no one can argue against my claim. I admit I belong with the beggars, and I join them at their weekly gatherings at St. Giles’s. I get a small annual salary for my poems, and I’m invited to dinner there whenever I want, which is more than most poets can say.
Player. As we live by the Muses, it is but Gratitude in us to encourage Poetical Merit wherever we find it. The Muses, contrary to all other Ladies, pay no Distinction to Dress, and never partially mistake the Pertness of Embroidery for Wit, nor the Modesty of Want for Dulness. Be the Author who he will, we push his Play as far as it will go. So (though you are in Want) I wish you success heartily.
Gamer. Since we are inspired by the Muses, it's only right for us to support poetic talent wherever we see it. The Muses, unlike other women, don't care about appearances; they don't confuse flashy clothes with intelligence, nor do they think being modest means lacking in creativity. No matter who the writer is, we promote their play as much as we can. So even though you’re in need, I sincerely wish you success.
Beggar. This piece I own was originally writ for the celebrating the Marriage of James Chaunter and Moll Lay, two most excellent Ballad-Singers. I have introduced the Similes that are in all your celebrated Operas: The Swallow, the Moth, the Bee, the Ship, the Flower, &c. xiv Besides, I have a Prison-Scene, which the Ladies always reckon charmingly pathetic. As to the Parts, I have observed such a nice Impartiality to our two Ladies, that it is impossible for either of them to take Offence. I hope I may be forgiven, that I have not made my Opera throughout unnatural, like those in vogue; for I have no Recitative; excepting this, as I have consented to have neither Prologue nor Epilogue, it must be allowed an Opera in all its Forms. The Piece indeed hath been heretofore frequently represented by ourselves in our Great Room at St. Giles’s, so that I cannot too often acknowledge your Charity in bringing it now on the Stage.
Homeless person. This piece I have was originally written to celebrate the marriage of James Chaunter and Moll Lay, two amazing ballad singers. I’ve included the similes found in all your famous operas: the swallow, the moth, the bee, the ship, the flower, and so on. xiv Additionally, I have a prison scene that the ladies always find beautifully moving. As for the roles, I’ve been very fair to both ladies, making sure neither of them can be offended. I hope you’ll forgive me for not making my opera entirely unrealistic, like the ones that are popular; I have no recitative. Except for this, since I have chosen to have neither prologue nor epilogue, it must be considered an opera in all its forms. This piece has indeed been performed frequently by us in our great room at St. Giles’s, so I can’t thank you enough for bringing it to the stage now.
Player. But I see it is time for us to withdraw; the Actors are preparing to begin. Play away the Overture.
Gamer. But I see it's time for us to leave; the Actors are getting ready to start. Let the Overture play.
Exeunt.
Exit.
OVERTURE
ACT I. SCENE I.
Scene, Peachum’s House.
Peachum sitting at a Table with a large Book of Accounts before him.
Peachum sitting at a table with a large accounting book in front of him.
AIR I. An old Woman clothed in Gray, &c.
Through all the Employments of Life
Through all the Jobs of Life
Each Neighbour abuses his Brother;
Each neighbor mistreats his brother;
Whore and Rogue they call Husband and Wife:
Whore and Rogue, that's what they call Husband and Wife:
All Professions be-rogue one another:
All professions betray each other:
The Priest calls the Lawyer a Cheat,
The Priest calls the Lawyer a Fraud,
The Lawyer be-knaves the Divine:
The Lawyer deceives the Divine:
And the Statesman, because he’s so great,
And the Statesman, because he's so impressive,
Thinks his Trade as honest as mine.
Thinks his job is as honest as mine.
A Lawyer is an honest Employment, so is mine. Like me too he acts in a double Capacity, both against Rogues and for ’em; for ’tis but fitting that we should protect and encourage Cheats, since we live by them.
A lawyer is a respectable job, and so is mine. Just like me, he works in two ways, both against fraudsters and for them; it makes sense that we should protect and support con artists since we depend on them.
Enter Filch.
Enter Filch.
Filch. Sir, Black Moll hath sent word her Trial comes on in the Afternoon, and she hopes you will order Matters so as to bring her off.
Steal. Sir, Black Moll has sent word that her trial is happening this afternoon, and she hopes you can arrange things to help her out.
Peachum. As the Wench is very active and industrious, you may satisfy her that I’ll soften the Evidence.
Peachum. Since the girl is very energetic and hardworking, you can assure her that I’ll make the evidence easier to handle.
Filch. Tom Gagg, Sir, is found guilty.
Filch. Tom Gagg is guilty.
Peachum. A lazy Dog! When I took him the time before, I told him what he would come to if he did not mend his Hand. This is Death without Reprieve. I may venture to Book him writes. For Tom Gagg, forty Pounds. Let Betty Sly know that I’ll save her from Transportation, for I can get more by her staying in England.
Peachum. A lazy guy! When I last had him, I warned him about what would happen if he didn’t fix his ways. This is a sure ticket to death. I can go ahead and book him. writing. For Tom Gagg, forty pounds. Let Betty Sly know that I’ll keep her from being shipped off, because I can get more with her staying in England.
Filch. Betty hath brought more Goods into our Lock to-year than any five of the Gang; and in truth, ’tis a pity to lose so good a Customer.
Steal. Betty has brought in more stuff to our shop this year than any five of the crew; and honestly, it’s a shame to lose such a great customer.
Peachum. If none of the Gang take her off, she may, in the common course of Business, live a Twelve-month longer. I love to let Women scape. A good Sportsman always lets the Hen Partridges fly, because the Breed of the Game depends upon them. Besides, here the Law allows us no Reward; there is nothing to be got by the Death of Women—except our Wives.
Peachum. If none of the gang takes her, she might, in the usual course of business, live for another year. I love to let women escape. A good sportsman always lets the female partridges fly because the breeding of the game depends on them. Plus, the law doesn't give us any reward; there's nothing to gain from killing women—except our wives.
Filch. Without dispute, she is a fine Woman! ’Twas to her I was obliged for my Education, and (to say a bold Word) she hath trained up more young Fellows to the Business than the Gaming table.
Steal. No doubt, she is a remarkable woman! I owe my education to her, and (to be bold) she has trained more young men for the business than for the gaming table.
Peachum. Truly, Filch, thy Observation is right. We and the Surgeons are more beholden to Women than all the Professions besides.
Peachum. Truly, Filch, your observation is correct. We and the surgeons owe more to women than any other professions.
AIR II. The bonny gray-ey’d Morn, &c.
Filch.
Steal.
’Tis Woman that seduces all Mankind,
It’s women who seduce all of mankind,
By her we first were taught the wheedling Arts:
By her, we were first taught the art of persuasion:
Her very Eyes can cheat; when most she’s kind,
Her very eyes can deceive; when she’s at her kindest,
She tricks us of our Money with our Hearts.
She deceives us out of our money with our emotions.
For her, like Wolves by Night we roam for Prey,
For her, like wolves at night, we roam for prey,
And practise ev’ry Fraud to bribe her Charms;
And practice every trick to win her over;
For Suits of Love, like Law, are won by Pay,
For Love's Affairs, like Legal Matters, are won by Money,
And Beauty must be fee’d into our Arms.
And beauty must be welcomed into our arms.
Peachum. But make haste to Newgate, Boy, and let my Friends know what I intend; for I love to make them easy one way or other.
Peachum. But hurry to Newgate, Boy, and let my friends know what I’m planning; I like to keep them comfortable one way or another.
Filch. When a Gentleman is long kept in suspence, Penitence may break his Spirit ever after. Besides, Certainty gives a Man a good Air upon his Trial, and makes him risk another without Fear or Scruple. But 4 I’ll away, for ’tis a Pleasure to be the Messenger of Comfort to Friends in Affliction.
Steal. When a gentleman is kept in suspense for too long, regret can damage his spirit forever. Plus, knowing the truth gives a man confidence during his trial, allowing him to take risks again without fear or hesitation. But 4 I’ll head out, because it's a pleasure to bring comfort to friends in distress.
Exit Filch.
Exit Filch.
Peachum. But ’tis now high time to look about me for a decent Execution against next Sessions. I hate a lazy Rogue, by whom one can get nothing ’till he is hang’d. A Register of the Gang, Reading. Crook-finger’d Jack. A Year and a half in the Service; Let me see how much the Stock owes to his industry; one, two, three, four, five Gold Watches, and seven Silver ones. A mighty clean-handed Fellow! Sixteen Snuff-boxes, five of them of true Gold. Six Dozen of Handkerchiefs, four silver-hilted Swords, half a Dozen of Shirts, three Tye-Periwigs, and a Piece of Broad-Cloth. Considering these are only the Fruits of his leisure Hours, I don’t know a prettier Fellow, for no Man alive hath a more engaging Presence of Mind upon the Road. Wat Dreary, alias Brown Will, an irregular Dog, who hath an underhand way of disposing of his Goods. I’ll try him only for a Sessions or two longer upon his Good-behaviour. Harry Paddington, a poor petty-larceny Rascal, without the least Genius; that Fellow, though he were to live these six Months, will never come to the Gallows with any Credit. Slippery Sam; he goes off the next Sessions, for the Villain hath the Impudence to have Views of following his Trade as a Tailor, which he calls an honest Employment. Mat of the Mint; listed not above a Month ago, a promising sturdy Fellow, and diligent in his way; somewhat too bold and hasty, and may raise good Contributions on the Public, if he does not cut himself short by Murder. Tom Tipple, a guzzling soaking Sot, who is always too drunk to stand himself, or to make others stand. A Cart is absolutely necessary for him. Robin of Bagshot, alias Gorgon, alias Bluff Bob, alias Carbuncle, alias Bob Booty.
Peachum. But it’s really time to start preparing for a decent execution for the next session. I can’t stand a lazy criminal who doesn't bring anything in until he’s hanged. Here’s a record of the gang, Reading. Crook-fingered Jack. He’s been in the game for a year and a half; let me see how much he’s contributed; one, two, three, four, five gold watches, and seven silver ones. A very clean-handed guy! Sixteen snuff boxes, five of which are solid gold. Six dozen handkerchiefs, four silver-hilted swords, half a dozen shirts, three wig styles, and a piece of broadcloth. Considering these are just the fruits of his free time, I don’t know a more charming fellow, for no one has a more engaging presence while on the job. Wat Dreary, also known as Brown Will, a bit of a rogue who has a sneaky way of selling his goods. I’ll give him one or two more sessions on his good behavior. Harry Paddington, a petty thief, without any real talent; that guy, even if he lived for six more months, would never make it to the gallows with any credit. Slippery Sam; he’s done after the next session, because the scoundrel has the nerve to want to pursue a career as a tailor, which he calls an honest job. Mat of the Mint; he joined less than a month ago, a promising sturdy fellow, and diligent in his own way; a bit too bold and hasty, and might raise good rewards from the public if he doesn’t end up making a mess of things by committing murder. Tom Tipple, a heavy-drinking drunkard who’s always too wasted to even stand up himself or get others to stand. A cart is absolutely necessary for him. Robin of Bagshot, also known as Gorgon, Bluff Bob, Carbuncle, and Bob Booty.
Enter Mrs. Peachum.
Enter Mrs. Peachum.
Mrs. Peachum. What of Bob Booty, Husband? I hope nothing bad hath betided him. You know, my Dear, he’s a favourite Customer of mine. ’Twas he made me a present of this Ring.
Ms. Peachum. What about Bob Booty, Husband? I hope nothing terrible has happened to him. You know, my Dear, he’s one of my favorite customers. He was the one who gave me this ring as a gift.
Peachum. I have set his Name down in the Black List, that’s all, my Dear; he spends his Life among Women, and as soon as his Money is gone, one or other of the Ladies will hang him for the Reward, and there’s forty Pound lost to us for-ever.
Peachum. I've added his name to the blacklist, that's it, my dear; he spends his life around women, and once his money runs out, one of those ladies will turn him in for the reward, and that’s forty pounds we'll never get back.
Mrs. Peachum. You know, my Dear, I never meddle in matters of Death; I always leave those Affairs to you. Women indeed are bitter bad Judges in these cases, for they are so partial to the Brave that they think every Man handsome who is going to the Camp or the Gallows.
Mrs. Peachum. You know, my dear, I never get involved in matters of death; I always leave those things to you. Women are really poor judges in these situations because they are so biased toward the brave that they see every man as attractive if he’s heading to battle or facing execution.
AIR III. Cold and raw, &c.
If any Wench Venus’s Girdle wear,
If any girl wears Venus’s Girdle,
Though she be never so ugly;
Though she may be very ugly;
Lilies and Roses will quickly appear,
Lilies and roses will soon show up,
And her Face look wond’rous smugly.
And her face looked incredibly smug.
Beneath the left Ear so fit but a Cord,
Beneath the left ear, just a cord.
(A Rope so charming a Zone is!)
(A Rope so charming a Zone is!)
The Youth in his Cart hath the Air of a Lord,
The young man in his cart carries himself like a lord,
And we cry, There dies an Adonis!
And we cry, There goes an Adonis!
But really, Husband, you should not be too hard-hearted, for you never had a finer, braver set of Men than at present. We have not had a Murder among them all, these seven Months. And truly, my Dear, that is a great Blessing.
But really, Honey, you shouldn’t be so cold-hearted, because you’ve never had a finer, braver group of guys than you do right now. We haven’t had a murder among them at all in these seven months. And honestly, my dear, that’s a huge blessing.
Peachum. What a dickens is the Woman always a whimpring about Murder for? No Gentleman is ever look’d upon the worse for killing a Man in his own Defence; and if Business cannot be carried on without it, what would you have a Gentleman do?
Peachum. What on earth is the Woman always whining about Murder for? No Gentleman is ever seen as less for killing a Man in self-defense; and if Business can't be done without it, what do you expect a Gentleman to do?
Mrs. Peachum. If I am in the wrong, my Dear, you must excuse me, for no body can help the Frailty of an over-scrupulous Conscience.
Ms. Peachum. If I'm wrong, my dear, you have to forgive me, because nobody can avoid the weakness of an overly sensitive conscience.
Peachum. Murder is as fashionable a Crime as a Man can be guilty of. How many fine Gentlemen have we in Newgate every Year, purely upon that Article! If they have wherewithal to persuade the Jury to bring it in Manslaughter, what are they the worse for it? So, my Dear, have done upon this Subject. Was Captain Macheath here this Morning, for the Bank-Notes he left with you last Week?
Peachum. Murder is as trendy a crime as any man can commit. How many wealthy gentlemen end up in Newgate each year just because of that? If they can convince the jury to call it manslaughter, what’s the problem? So, my dear, let’s move on from that topic. Was Captain Macheath here this morning for the banknotes he left with you last week?
Mrs. Peachum. Yes, my Dear; and though the Bank hath stopt Payment, he was so chearful and so agreeable! Sure there is not a finer Gentleman upon the Road than the Captain! if he comes from Bagshot at any reasonable Hour, he hath promis’d to make one this Evening with Polly and me, and Bob Booty at a Party of Quadrille. Pray, my Dear, is the Captain rich?
Mrs. Peachum. Yes, my dear; and even though the bank has stopped payments, he was so cheerful and pleasant! I’m sure there isn’t a finer gentleman on the road than the Captain! If he arrives from Bagshot at a reasonable hour, he promised to join Polly, me, and Bob Booty for a game of Quadrille this evening. Tell me, my dear, is the Captain wealthy?
Peachum. The Captain keeps too good Company ever to grow rich. Marybone and the Chocolate-houses are his Undoing. The Man that proposes to get Money by play should have the Education of a fine Gentleman, and be train’d up to it from his Youth.
Peachum. The Captain spends too much time with the wrong crowd to ever become rich. Marybone and the upscale cafes are his downfall. A person who aims to make money through gambling should have the upbringing of a true gentleman and be trained for it from a young age.
Mrs. Peachum. Really, I am sorry upon Polly’s Account the Captain hath not more Discretion. What Business 7 hath he to keep Company with Lords and Gentlemen? he should leave them to prey upon one another.
Mrs. Peachum Honestly, I feel bad for Polly that the Captain doesn’t have more sense. What business 7 does he have hanging out with lords and gentlemen? He should let them take advantage of each other.
Peachum. Upon Polly’s Account! What, a Plague, does the Woman mean?—Upon Polly’s Account!
Peachum. On Polly's Account! What on earth does she mean?—On Polly's Account!
Mrs. Peachum. Captain Macheath is very fond of the Girl.
Captain Macheath really likes the girl.
Peachum. And what then?
Peachum. So, what's next?
Mrs. Peachum. If I have any Skill in the Ways of Women, I am sure Polly thinks him a very pretty Man.
Ms. Peachum. If I know anything about women, I'm sure Polly thinks he's a very handsome guy.
Peachum. And what then? You would not be so mad to have the Wench marry him! Gamesters and Highwaymen are generally very good to their Whores, but they are very Devils to their Wives.
Peachum. And what then? You wouldn't be crazy enough to let the girl marry him! Gamblers and criminals usually treat their mistresses well, but they're complete nightmares to their wives.
Mrs. Peachum. But if Polly should be in Love, how should we help her, or how can she help herself? Poor Girl, I am in the utmost Concern about her.
Ms. Peachum. But if Polly is in love, how can we help her, or how can she help herself? Poor girl, I’m really worried about her.
AIR IV. Why is your faithful Slave disdain’d? &c.
If Love the Virgin’s Heart invade,
If Love invades the Virgin's Heart,
How, like a Moth, the simple Maid
How, like a moth, the simple girl
Still plays about the Flame!
Still plays about the Flame!
If soon she be not made a Wife,
If she isn’t made a wife soon,
Her Honour’s sing’d, and then for Life,
Her Honor's signed, and then for life,
She’s—what I dare not name.
She’s—what I won’t call.
Peachum. Look ye, Wife. A handsome Wench in our way of Business is as profitable as at the Bar of a Temple Coffee-House, who looks upon it as her livelihood to grant every Liberty but one. You see I would indulge the Girl as far as prudently we can. In any thing, but Marriage! After that, my Dear, how shall we be safe? Are we not then in her Husband’s Power? For a Husband hath the absolute Power over all a Wife’s Secrets but her own. If the Girl had the Discretion of a Court-Lady, who can have a Dozen young Fellows at her Ear without complying with one, I should not matter it; but Polly is Tinder, and a Spark will at once set her on a Flame. Married! If the Wench does not know her own Profit, sure she knows her own Pleasure better than to make herself a Property! My Daughter to me should be, like a Court-Lady to a Minister of State, a Key to the whole Gang. Married! If the Affair is not already done, I’ll terrify her from it, by the Example of our Neighbours.
Peachum. Listen, Wife. A pretty girl in our line of work is just as valuable as one at the coffee house near the temple, who sees her job as allowing every freedom except one. You see, I’d let the girl have some leeway as much as we safely can. Anything but marriage! After that, my dear, how will we be secure? Aren’t we then at her husband's mercy? A husband has total control over all his wife's secrets except for her own. If the girl had the discretion of a court lady, who can entertain a dozen young men without giving in to any of them, I wouldn’t worry. But Polly is like kindling, and one spark will set her ablaze. Married! If the girl doesn’t know what’s best for her, she surely understands her own pleasure better than to become someone's possession! My daughter should be to me, like a court lady to a government official, a key to the entire operation. Married! If this isn’t already settled, I’ll scare her away from it by showing her what our neighbors have gone through.
Mrs. Peachum. May-hap, my Dear, you may injure the Girl. She loves to imitate the fine Ladies, and she may only allow the Captain Liberties in the view of Interest.
Ms. Peachum. Maybe, my dear, you could hurt the girl. She likes to mimic the high-class ladies, and she might only be letting the Captain get close because of her own interests.
Peachum. But ’tis your Duty, my Dear, to warn the Girl against her Ruin, and to instruct her how to make the most of her Beauty. I’ll go to her this moment, and sift her. In the meantime, Wife, rip out the Coronets and Marks of these Dozen of Cambric Handkerchiefs, for I can dispose of them this Afternoon to a Chap in the City. Exit Peachum.
Peachum. But it’s your responsibility, my dear, to warn the girl about her downfall and to teach her how to make the most of her looks. I’ll go talk to her right now and find out what she’s about. In the meantime, wife, take out the coronets and labels from these twelve cambric handkerchiefs because I can sell them to a guy in the city this afternoon. Exit Peachum.
Mrs. Peachum. Never was a Man more out of the way in an Argument than my Husband! Why must our Polly, forsooth, differ from her Sex, and love only her Husband? And why must Polly’s Marriage, contrary to all Observations, make her the less followed by other 9 Men? All Men are Thieves in Love, and like a Woman the better for being another’s Property.
Ms. Peachum. No one gets more sidetracked in a debate than my husband! Why does our Polly insist on being different from other women and only loving her husband? And why does Polly’s marriage, which goes against everything we've seen, make her less attractive to other guys? All men are thieves when it comes to love and prefer a woman who belongs to someone else. 9
AIR V. Of all the simple Things we do, &c.
A Maid is like the Golden Ore,
A maid is like gold ore,
Which hath Guineas intrinsical in’t,
Which has intrinsic Guineas in it,
Whose Worth is never known before
Whose value is never realized until later.
It is try’d and imprest in the Mint.
It is tested and struck at the Mint.
A Wife’s like a Guinea in Gold,
A wife is like a gold guinea,
Stampt with the Name of her Spouse;
Stamped with the name of her partner;
Now here, now there; is bought, or is sold;
Now here, now there; is bought, or is sold;
And is current in every House.
And is active in every House.
Enter Filch.
Enter Filch.
Mrs. Peachum. Come hither, Filch. I am as fond of this Child, as though my Mind misgave me he were my own. He hath as fine a Hand at picking a Pocket as a Woman, and is as nimble-finger’d as a Juggler. If an unlucky Session does not cut the Rope of thy Life, I pronounce, Boy, thou wilt be a great Man in History. Where was your Post last Night, my Boy?
Mrs. Peachum. Come here, Filch. I care for this child as much as if I had a feeling he was mine. He’s got a real talent for picking pockets, just like a woman, and he’s as quick with his hands as a juggler. If an unlucky night doesn’t end your life, I tell you, boy, you’re going to make a name for yourself in history. Where were you stationed last night, my boy?
Filch. I ply’d at the Opera, Madam; and considering ’twas neither dark nor rainy, so that there was no great Hurry in getting Chairs and Coaches, made a 10 tolerable Hand on’t. These seven Handkerchiefs, Madam.
Steal. I worked at the Opera, ma'am; and since it wasn’t dark or rainy, so there wasn’t much rush for chairs and coaches, I did pretty well. Here are these seven handkerchiefs, ma'am.
Mrs. Peachum. Colour’d ones, I see. They are of sure Sale from our Warehouse at Redriff among the Seamen.
Mrs. Peachum. I see people of color. They are definitely for sale from our warehouse at Redriff among the sailors.
Filch. And this Snuff-box.
Filch. And this snuff box.
Mrs. Peachum. Set in Gold! A pretty Encouragement this to a young Beginner.
Ms. Peachum. Set in Gold! What a nice boost this is for a young beginner.
Filch. I had a fair Tug at a charming Gold Watch. Pox take the Tailors for making the Fobs so deep and narrow! It stuck by the way, and I was forc’d to make my Escape under a Coach. Really, Madam, I fear I shall be cut off in the Flower of my Youth, so that every now and then (since I was pumpt) I have Thoughts of taking up and going to Sea.
Steal. I had a good shot at a nice gold watch. Damn those tailors for making the pockets so deep and narrow! It got stuck on the way out, and I had to escape under a coach. Honestly, ma'am, I worry I might meet my end while I'm still young, so every now and then (ever since I got caught) I think about leaving it all behind and going to sea.
Mrs. Peachum. You should go to Hockley in the Hole, and to Marybone, Child, to learn Valour. These are the Schools that have bred so many brave Men. I thought, Boy, by this time, thou hadst lost Fear as well as Shame. Poor Lad! how little does he know as yet of the Old Baily! For the first Fact I’ll insure thee from being hang’d; and going to Sea, Filch, will come time enough upon a Sentence of Transportation. But now, since you have nothing better to do, ev’n go to your Book, and learn your Catechism; for really a Man makes but an ill Figure in the Ordinary’s Paper, who cannot give a satisfactory Answer to his Questions. But, hark you, my Lad. Don’t tell me a Lye; for you know I hate a Liar. Do you know of anything that hath pass’d between Captain Macheath and our Polly?
Mrs. Peachum. You should check out Hockley in the Hole and Marybone, kid, to learn about bravery. Those are the places that have produced so many brave men. I thought, boy, by now you’d have lost both fear and shame. Poor kid! He has no idea yet about the Old Bailey! For the first thing, I’ll make sure you don't get hanged, and heading out to sea, Filch, will be a good time to think about a sentence of transportation. But now, since you have nothing better to do, just go to your book and learn your catechism; because honestly, a man doesn't look good in the Ordinary’s paper if he can't give a decent answer to the questions. But listen, my lad. Don't lie to me, because you know I can't stand liars. Do you know anything that’s happened between Captain Macheath and our Polly?
Filch. I beg you, Madam, don’t ask me; for I must either tell a Lye to you or to Miss Polly; for I promis’d her I would not tell.
Steal. Please, ma'am, don’t ask me; I have to either lie to you or to Miss Polly; because I promised her I wouldn’t say anything.
Mrs. Peachum. But when the Honour of our Family is concern’d—
Mrs. Peachum. But when it comes to the Honor of our Family—
Filch. I shall lead a sad Life with Miss Polly, if ever she comes to know that I told you. Besides, I would not willingly forfeit my own Honour by betraying any body.
Steal. I'm going to have a miserable life with Miss Polly if she finds out that I told you. Also, I definitely don't want to lose my own dignity by betraying anyone.
Mrs. Peachum. Yonder comes my Husband and Polly. Come, Filch, you shall go with me into my own Room, and tell me the whole Story. I’ll give thee a Glass of a most delicious Cordial that I keep for my own drinking.
Mrs. Peachum. Here comes my husband and Polly. Come on, Filch, you’re coming with me to my room, and you’ll tell me everything that happened. I’ll give you a glass of a really tasty drink that I keep just for myself.
Exeunt.
Exit.
Enter Peachum, Polly.
Enter Peachum, Polly.
Polly. I know as well as any of the fine Ladies how to make the most of myself and of my Man too. A Woman knows how to be mercenary, though she hath never been in a Court or at an Assembly. We have it in our Natures, Papa. If I allow Captain Macheath some trifling Liberties, I have this Watch and other visible Marks of his Favour to shew for it. A Girl who cannot grant some Things, and refuse what is most material, will make but a poor hand of her Beauty, and soon be thrown upon the Common.
Polly. I know just as well as any of those classy ladies how to make the most of myself and my man too. A woman knows how to be strategic, even if she's never been to a court or a social gathering. It's in our nature, Dad. If I let Captain Macheath have some minor liberties, I have this watch and other clear signs of his affection to show for it. A girl who can't give a little and hold back on what's really important won't make great use of her beauty and will quickly end up in a bad situation.
AIR VI. What shall I do to shew how much I love her, &c.
Virgins are like the fair Flower in its Lustre,
Virgins are like the beautiful flower in its bloom,
Which in the Garden enamels the Ground;
Which in the Garden beautifies the ground;
Near it the Bees in play flutter and cluster,
Near it, the bees buzz and gather,
And gaudy Butterflies frolick around.
And flashy butterflies flutter around.
But, when once pluck’d, ’tis no longer alluring,
But once it's picked, it’s no longer enticing,
To Covent-Garden ’tis sent (as yet sweet),
To Covent Garden it's sent (still sweet),
There fades, and shrinks, and grows past all enduring,
There fades, shrinks, and moves beyond everything that lasts.
Rots, stinks, and dies, and is trod under feet.
Rots, smells bad, dies, and gets walked on.
Peachum. You know, Polly, I am not against your toying and trifling with a Customer in the way of Business, or to get out a Secret, or so. But if I find out that you have play’d the Fool and are married, you Jade you, I’ll cut your Throat, Hussy. Now you know my Mind.
Peachum. You know, Polly, I don’t mind you flirting with a customer as part of your job or to uncover something. But if I discover that you’ve foolishly gotten married, you little brat, I swear I’ll take you down, you trickster. Now you know how I feel.
Enter Mrs. Peachum, in a very great Passion.
Enter Mrs. Peachum, very angry.
AIR VII. Oh London is a fine Town.
Our Polly is a sad Slut! nor heeds what we have taught her.
Our Polly is a sad mess! She doesn't pay attention to what we've taught her.
I wonder any Man alive will ever rear a Daughter!
I wonder if any man currently alive will ever raise a daughter!
For she must have both Hoods and Gowns, and Hoops to swell her Pride,
For she needs both hoods and gowns, and hoops to boost her pride,
With Scarfs and Stays, and Gloves and Lace; and she will have Men beside;
With scarves and stays, and gloves and lace; and she'll have men nearby;
And when she’s drest with Care and Cost, all tempting, fine and gay,
And when she's dressed with care and expense, looking all tempting, stylish, and bright,
As Men should serve a Cucumber, she flings herself away.
As men are supposed to serve a cucumber, she throws herself aside.
Our Polly is a sad Slut! &c.
Our Polly is a sad mess! &c.
You Baggage! you Hussy! you inconsiderate Jade! had you been hang’d, it would not have vex’d me, for that might have been your Misfortune; but to do such a mad thing by Choice; The Wench is married, Husband.
You baggage! You hussy! You thoughtless jade! If you had been hanged, it wouldn’t have bothered me, because that could have been your misfortune; but to do something so crazy by choice? The woman is married, husband.
Peachum. Married! the Captain is a bold Man, and will risk any thing for Money; to be sure he believes her a Fortune. Do you think your Mother and I should have liv’d comfortably so long together, if ever we had been married? Baggage!
Peachum. Married! The Captain is a daring guy and will gamble everything for cash; he definitely thinks she’s rich. Do you really think your mom and I could have lived happily together for so long if we had ever gotten married? Nonsense!
Mrs. Peachum. I knew she was always a proud Slut; and now the Wench hath play’d the Fool and Married, because forsooth she would do like the Gentry. Can you support the Expence of a Husband, Hussy, in Gaming, Drinking and Whoring? Have you Money enough to carry on the daily Quarrels of Man and Wife about who shall squander most? There are not many Husbands and Wives, who can bear the Charges of plaguing one another in a handsom way. If you must be married, could you introduce no body into our Family but a Highwayman? Why, thou foolish Jade, thou wilt be as ill-us’d, and as much neglected, as if thou hadst married a Lord!
Ms. Peachum. I knew she was always a proud person; and now she’s acted foolishly and got married, just because she wants to fit in with the upper class. Can you handle the costs of a husband, who’ll be spending money on gambling, drinking, and cheating? Do you have enough money to deal with the daily fights between a husband and wife about who gets to waste the most? Not many couples can afford to annoy each other in a decent way. If you have to get married, couldn’t you choose someone other than a criminal? Honestly, you foolish girl, you’ll be just as unhappy and ignored as if you had married a lord!
Peachum. Let not your Anger, my Dear, break through the Rules of Decency, for the Captain looks upon himself in the Military Capacity, as a Gentleman by his Profession. Besides what he hath already, I know he is in a fair way of getting, or of dying; and both these ways, let me tell you, are most excellent Chances for a Wife. Tell me, Hussy, are you ruin’d or no?
Peachum. Don’t let your anger, my dear, go against common decency, because the Captain sees himself as a gentleman in his military role. Besides what he already has, I know he’s likely to gain more, or he might end up dead; and both of these options, let me tell you, are great opportunities for a wife. So tell me, are you ruined or not?
Mrs. Peachum. With Polly’s Fortune, she might very well have gone off to a Person of Distinction. Yes, that you might, you pouting Slut!
Mrs. Peachum. With Polly's fortune, she could have easily run off with someone important. Yeah, you could, you sulking brat!
Peachum. What is the Wench dumb? Speak, or I’ll make you plead by squeezing out an Answer from you. 14 Are you really bound Wife to him, or are you only upon liking? Pinches her.
Peachum. Is the woman mute? Speak up, or I’ll force you to answer by squeezing it out of you. 14 Are you actually his wife, or are you just with him because you like him? Pinches her.
Polly. Oh! Screaming.
Polly. Oh! Yelling.
Mrs. Peachum. How the Mother is to be pitied who hath handsom Daughters! Locks, Bolts, Bars, and Lectures of Morality are nothing to them: They break through them all. They have as much Pleasure in cheating a Father and Mother, as in cheating at Cards.
Mrs. Peachum. How unfortunate it is for a mother with good-looking daughters! Locks, bolts, bars, and moral lectures mean nothing to them; they can get past all of it. They take as much pleasure in deceiving their parents as they do in cheating at cards.
Peachum. Why, Polly, I shall soon know if you are married, by Macheath’s keeping from our House.
Peachum. Well, Polly, I’ll soon find out if you’re married by the way Macheath stays away from our place.
AIR VIII. Grim King of the Ghosts, &c.
Polly.
Polly.
Can Love be control’d by Advice?
Can love be controlled by advice?
Will Cupid our Mothers obey?
Will Cupid obey our mothers?
Though my Heart were as frozen as Ice,
Though my heart were as cold as ice,
At his Flame ’twould have melted away.
At his Flame, it would have melted away.
When he kist me so closely he prest,
When he kissed me so closely, he pressed,
’Twas so sweet that I must have comply’d:
’Twas so sweet that I just had to go along with it:
So I thought it both safest and best
So I thought it was both the safest and best.
To marry, for fear you should chide.
To get married, because I’m afraid you might scold me.
Mrs. Peachum. Then all the Hopes of our Family are gone for ever and ever!
Ms. Peachum. Then all our family's hopes are lost forever!
Peachum. And Macheath may hang his Father and Mother-in-law, in hope to get into their Daughter’s Fortune.
Peachum. And Macheath might hang his father and mother-in-law, hoping to get his hands on their daughter’s fortune.
Polly. I did not marry him (as ’tis the Fashion) coolly and deliberately for Honour or Money. But, I love him.
Polly. I didn’t marry him (like it’s done these days) in a calm and calculated way for honor or money. I love him.
Mrs. Peachum. Love him! worse and worse! I thought the Girl had been better bred. Oh Husband, Husband! her Folly makes me mad! my Head swims! I’m distracted! I can’t support myself—Oh! Faints.
Mrs. Peachum. Love him! It just gets worse and worse! I thought the girl had better manners. Oh, Husband, Husband! Her foolishness drives me crazy! My head is spinning! I'm losing my mind! I can't take it—Oh! Passes out.
Peachum. See, Wench, to what a Condition you have reduc’d your poor Mother! a Glass of Cordial, this instant. How the poor Woman takes it to heart!
Peachum. Look, Wench, at the state you've put your poor mother in! I need a glass of cordial, right now. It’s really affecting her!
Polly goes out, and returns with it.
Polly goes out and comes back with it.
Ah, Hussy, now this is the only Comfort your Mother has left!
Ah, Hussy, this is the only comfort your mom has left!
Polly. Give her another Glass, Sir! my Mama drinks double the Quantity whenever she is out of Order. This, you see, fetches her.
Polly. Give her another drink, Sir! My mom has twice as much whenever she’s not feeling well. This, you see, really helps her.
Mrs. Peachum. The Girl shews such a Readiness, and so much Concern, that I could almost find in my Heart to forgive her.
Ms. Peachum. The girl shows such willingness and so much emotion that I could almost bring myself to forgive her.
AIR IX. O Jenny, O Jenny, where hast thou been.
O Polly, you might have toy’d and kist.
O Polly, you might have played and kissed.
By keeping Men off, you keep them on.
By pushing men away, you actually keep them close.
Polly.
Polly.
But he so teaz’d me,
But he teased me so,
And he so pleas’d me,
And he pleased me so,
What I did, you must have done.
What I did, you must have done.
Mrs. Peachum. Not with a Highwayman.—You sorry Slut!
Mrs. Peachum. Not with a Highwayman.—You pathetic loser!
Peachum. A Word with you, Wife. ’Tis no new thing for a Wench to take Man without Consent of Parents. You know ’tis the Frailty of Women, my Dear.
Peachum. I need to talk to you, Wife. It’s not uncommon for a girl to be with a man without her parents' approval. You know it’s just one of the weaknesses of women, my Dear.
Mrs. Peachum. Yes, indeed, the Sex is frail. But the first time a Woman is frail, she should be somewhat nice methinks, for then or never is the time to make her Fortune. After that, she hath nothing to do but to guard herself from being found out, and she may do what she pleases.
Ms. Peachum. Yes, indeed, women are delicate. But the first time a woman falters, she should probably be a bit charming, because that's when she has the best chance to secure her future. After that, all she has to do is protect herself from being discovered, and she can do whatever she wants.
Peachum. Make yourself a little easy; I have a Thought shall soon set all Matters again to rights. Why so melancholy, Polly? since what is done cannot be undone, we must all endeavour to make the best of it.
Peachum. Take it easy; I have an idea that will fix everything soon. Why so down, Polly? Since we can't change what's happened, we all need to try to make the best of it.
Mrs. Peachum. Well, Polly; as far as one Woman can forgive another, I forgive thee.—Your Father is too fond of you, Hussy.
Ms. Peachum. Well, Polly; as far as one woman can forgive another, I forgive you. Your father is too fond of you, you little minx.
Polly. Then all my Sorrows are at an end.
Polly. Then all my troubles are over.
Mrs. Peachum. A mighty likely Speech in troth, for a Wench who is just married!
Mrs. Peachum. That's quite a speech, honestly, for a girl who's just gotten married!
AIR X. Thomas, I cannot, &c.
Polly.
Polly.
I, like a Ship in Storms, was tost;
I, like a ship in storms, was tossed;
Yet afraid to put in to Land:
Yet scared to go ashore:
For seiz’d in the Port the Vessel’s lost,
For seized in the harbor, the ship is lost,
Whose Treasure is contreband.
Whose treasure is contraband.
The Waves are laid,
The waves are set,
My Duty’s paid.
My duty is paid.
O Joy beyond Expression!
Pure Joy!
Thus, safe a-shore,
Thus, safe ashore,
I ask no more,
I ask for nothing more,
My All is in my Possession.
My everything is in my possession.
Peachum. I hear Customers in t’other Room: Go, talk with ’em, Polly; but come to us again, as soon as they are gone.—But, hark ye, Child, if ’tis the Gentleman who was here Yesterday about the Repeating Watch; say, you believe we can’t get Intelligence of it ’till to-morrow. For I lent it to Suky Straddle, to make a figure with it to-night at a Tavern in Drury-Lane. If t’other Gentleman calls for the Silver-hilted Sword; you know Beetle-brow’d Jemmy hath it on, and he doth not come from Tunbridge ’till Tuesday Night; so that it cannot be had ’till then. Exit Polly.
Peachum. I hear customers in the other room: Go talk to them, Polly; but come back to us as soon as they leave. — But listen, child, if it’s the gentleman who was here yesterday about the repeating watch, tell him you think we won’t be able to get any news about it until tomorrow. I lent it to Suky Straddle to show off tonight at a tavern in Drury Lane. And if the other gentleman asks about the silver-hilted sword, you know Beetle-browed Jemmy has it, and he won’t be back from Tunbridge until Tuesday night; so it won't be available until then. Polly leaves.
Peachum. Dear Wife, be a little pacified, Don’t let your Passion run away with your Senses. Polly, I grant you, hath done a rash thing.
Peachum. Dear Wife, please calm down, don’t let your emotions get the best of you. Polly, I admit, has done something impulsive.
Mrs. Peachum. If she had only an Intrigue with the Fellow, why the very best Families have excus’d and huddled up a Frailty of that sort. ’Tis Marriage, Husband, that makes it a Blemish.
Ms. Peachum. If she just had a fling with the guy, then some of the best families have overlooked and covered up something like that. It’s the marriage, dear, that turns it into a flaw.
Peachum. But Money, Wife, is the true Fuller’s Earth for Reputations, there is not a Spot or a Stain but what it can take out. A rich Rogue now-a-days is fit Company for any Gentleman; and the World, my Dear, hath not such a Contempt for Roguery as you imagine. I tell you, Wife, I can make this Match turn to our Advantage.
Peachum. But money, my dear, is the real remedy for reputations; it can remove any blemish or stain. These days, a wealthy crook is suitable company for any gentleman, and the world, my dear, doesn’t look down on trickery as much as you think. I tell you, wife, I can make this arrangement work in our favor.
Mrs. Peachum. I am very sensible, Husband, that 18 Captain Macheath is worth Money, but I am in doubt whether he hath not two or three Wives already, and then if he should die in a Session or two, Polly’s Dower would come into Dispute.
Mrs. Peachum. I know, Husband, that Captain Macheath is valuable, but I'm not sure if he already has two or three wives. If he were to die in a session or two, Polly’s inheritance would be contested. 18
Peachum. That, indeed, is a Point which ought to be consider’d.
Peachum. That’s definitely something that should be considered.
AIR XI. A Soldier and a Sailor.
A Fox may steal your Hens, Sir,
A fox might take your hens, sir,
A Whore your Health and Pence, Sir,
A whore takes your health and money, sir,
Your Daughter rob your Chest, Sir,
Your daughter robbed your chest, sir.
Your Wife may steal your Rest, Sir.
Your wife might steal your rest, sir.
A Thief your Goods and Plate.
A thief has taken your belongings and silverware.
But this is all but picking,
But this is just nitpicking,
With Rest, Pence, Chest and Chicken;
With rest, pence, chest, and chicken;
It ever was decreed, Sir,
It has always been decided, Sir,
If Lawyer’s Hand is fee’d, Sir,
If the Lawyer's Hand is paid, Sir,
He steals your whole Estate.
He takes your entire estate.
The Lawyers are bitter Enemies to those in our Way. They don’t care that any body should get a clandestine Livelihood but themselves.
The lawyers are fierce enemies of anyone who stands in their way. They don't care if anyone else makes a living outside the law; all they think about is themselves.
Enter Polly.
Enter Polly.
Polly. ’Twas only Nimming Ned. He brought in a Damask Window-Curtain, a Hoop-Petticoat, a pair of Silver Candlesticks, a Periwig, and one Silk Stocking, from the Fire that happen’d last Night.
Polly. It was just Nimming Ned. He brought in a damask window curtain, a hoop petticoat, a pair of silver candlesticks, a wig, and one silk stocking from the fire that happened last night.
Peachum. There is not a Fellow that is cleverer in his way, and saves more Goods out of the Fire than Ned. But now, Polly, to your Affair; for Matters must not be left as they are. You are married then, it seems?
Peachum. There’s no one quite as clever at getting out of tight spots or saving more valuable stuff than Ned. But now, Polly, let’s talk about your situation; we can't just leave things as they are. So, it looks like you’re married, huh?
Polly. Yes, Sir.
Polly. Yes, boss.
Peachum. And how do you propose to live, Child?
Peachum. So, how do you plan to get by, kid?
Polly. Like other Women, Sir, upon the Industry of my Husband.
Polly. Like other women, sir, I rely on my husband’s hard work.
Mrs. Peachum. What, is the Wench turn’d Fool? A Highwayman’s Wife, like a Soldier’s, hath as little of his Pay, as of his Company.
Ms. Peachum. What, has the girl lost her mind? A highwayman's wife, just like a soldier's, gets as little of his salary as she does of his company.
Peachum. And had not you the common Views of a Gentlewoman in your Marriage, Polly?
Peachum. Didn't you have the usual ideas of a lady regarding marriage, Polly?
Polly. I don’t know what you mean, Sir.
Polly. I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Sir.
Peachum. Of a Jointure, and of being a Widow.
Peachum. About a marriage settlement and being a widow.
Polly. But I love him, Sir; how then could I have Thoughts of parting with him?
Polly. But I love him, Sir; how could I even think about breaking up with him?
Peachum. Parting with him! Why, this is the whole Scheme and Intention of all Marriage-Articles. The comfortable Estate of Widow-hood, is the only Hope that keeps up a Wife’s Spirits. Where is the Woman who would scruple to be a Wife, if she had it in her Power to be a Widow, whenever she pleas’d? If you have any Views of this sort, Polly, I shall think the Match not so very unreasonable.
Peachum. Breaking up with him! This is the whole plan behind Marriage Contracts. The comforting thought of being a widow is the only thing that keeps a wife’s spirits up. What woman wouldn’t want to be a wife if she had the option to become a widow whenever she wanted? If you have any thoughts like that, Polly, I won’t see the match as such a bad idea.
Polly. How I dread to hear your Advice! Yet I must beg you to explain yourself.
Polly. I really don’t want to hear your advice! But I have to ask you to clarify what you mean.
Peachum. Secure what he hath got, have him peach’d the next Sessions, and then at once you are made a rich Widow.
Peachum. Make sure to hold on to what he has, have him turned in at the next session, and then you'll instantly become a wealthy widow.
Polly. What, murder the Man I love! The Blood runs cold at my Heart with the very thought of it.
Polly. What, kill the man I love! The thought of it makes my blood run cold.
Peachum. Fie, Polly! What hath Murder to do in the Affair? Since the thing sooner or later must happen, I dare say, the Captain himself would like that we should get the Reward for his Death sooner than a Stranger. Why, Polly, the Captain knows, that as ’tis his Employment to rob, so ’tis ours to take Robbers; every Man in his Business. So that there is no Malice in the Case.
Peachum. Come on, Polly! What does murder have to do with this? Since it’s bound to happen eventually, I bet the Captain would prefer that we get the reward for his death instead of some random person. You know, Polly, the Captain understands that while his job is to steal, ours is to catch thieves; everyone has their role. So there’s no bad intention here.
Mrs. Peachum. Ay, Husband, now you have nick’d the Matter. To have him peach’d is the only thing could ever make me forgive her.
Mrs. Peachum. Yes, Husband, you've hit the nail on the head. Getting him to turn on her is the only thing that could ever make me forgive her.
AIR XII. Now ponder well, ye Parents dear.
Polly.
Polly.
O ponder well! be not severe;
O think carefully! don’t be harsh;
So save a wretched Wife!
So save a miserable wife!
For on the Rope that hangs my Dear
For on the rope that hangs, my dear
Depends poor Polly’s Life.
Depends on poor Polly’s life.
Mrs. Peachum. But your Duty to your Parents, Hussy, obliges you to hang him. What would many a Wife give for such an Opportunity!
Mrs. Peachum. But your responsibility to your parents, you troublemaker, demands that you hang him. What would many a wife give for such a chance!
Polly. What is a Jointure, what is Widow-hood to me? I know my Heart. I cannot survive him.
Polly. What is a jointure, what is being a widow to me? I know my heart. I can't live without him.
AIR XIII. Le printems rapelle aux armes.
The Turtle thus with plaintive Crying,
The Turtle, therefore, with a sad cry,
Her Lover dying,
Her lover is dying,
The Turtle thus with plaintive Crying,
The Turtle, therefore, cried out sadly,
Laments her Dove.
Laments her Dove.
Down she drops quite spent with Sighing.
Down she drops, completely exhausted from sighing.
Pair’d in Death, as pair’d in Love.
Pair'd in death, just like we were in love.
Thus, Sir, it will happen to your poor Polly.
Thus, sir, it will happen to your poor Polly.
Mrs. Peachum. What, is the Fool in Love in earnest then? I hate thee for being particular: Why, Wench, thou art a Shame to thy very Sex.
Mrs. Peachum. What, is the fool really in love then? I can't stand you for being so picky: Why, girl, you’re a disgrace to your entire gender.
Polly. But hear me, Mother.—If you ever lov’d—
Polly. But listen to me, Mom.—If you ever loved—
Mrs. Peachum. Those cursed Play-Books she reads have been her Ruin. One Word more, Hussy, and I shall knock your Brains out, if you have any.
Mrs. Peachum. Those cursed playbooks she reads have ruined her. One more word, you little brat, and I’ll knock some sense into you, if you even have any brains.
Peachum. Keep out of the way, Polly, for fear of Mischief, and consider of what is proposed to you.
Peachum. Stay back, Polly, to avoid trouble, and think about what’s being suggested to you.
Mrs. Peachum. Away, Hussy. Hang your Husband, and be dutiful. Exit Polly.
Mrs. Peachum. Go away, you troublemaker. Hang your husband and be loyal. Exit Polly.
Re-enter Polly, and listens behind column.
Re-enter Polly and listens behind the column.
Mrs. Peachum. The Thing, Husband, must and shall be done. For the sake of Intelligence we must take 22 other measures, and have him peached the next Session without her Consent. If she will not know her Duty, we know ours.
Mrs. Peachum. It has to be done, Husband. For the sake of clarity, we need to take other steps and have him turned in at the next meeting without her agreement. If she won't acknowledge her responsibilities, we’ll take care of ours. 22
Peachum. But really, my Dear, it grieves one’s Heart to take off a great Man. When I consider his Personal Bravery, his fine Stratagem, how much we have already got by him, and how much more we may get, methinks I can’t find in my Heart to have a hand in his Death. I wish you could have made Polly undertake it.
Peachum. But honestly, my dear, it really hurts to take down a great man. When I think about his personal bravery, his clever plans, how much we’ve already gained from him, and how much more we could get, I just can't bring myself to be involved in his death. I wish you could have convinced Polly to do it.
Mrs. Peachum. But in a Case of Necessity—our own Lives are in danger.
Mrs. Peachum. But in an emergency—our lives are at risk.
Peachum. Then, indeed, we must comply with the Customs of the World, and make Gratitude give way to Interest.—He shall be taken off.
Peachum. Then, we really have to go along with the ways of the world and let Gratitude be pushed aside for Interest.—He will be removed.
Mrs. Peachum. I’ll undertake to manage Polly.
Mrs. Peachum: I'll take care of Polly.
Peachum. And I’ll prepare Matters for the Old-Baily.
Peachum. And I’ll get things ready for the Old-Bailey.
Exeunt severally.
Exit separately.
Polly. Now I’m a Wretch, indeed.—Methinks I see him already in the Cart, sweeter and more lovely than the Nosegay in his Hand!—I hear the Crowd extolling his Resolution and Intrepidity!—What Vollies of Sighs are sent from the Windows of Holborn, that so comely a Youth should be brought to Disgrace!—I see him at the Tree! The whole Circle are in Tears!—even Butchers weep!—Jack Ketch himself hesitates to perform his Duty, and would be glad to lose his Fee, by a Reprieve. What then will become of Polly!—As yet I may inform him of their Design, and aid him in his Escape.—It shall be so—But then he flies, absents himself, and I bar myself from his dear dear Conversation! That too will distract me.—If he keep out of the way, my Papa and Mama may in time relent, and we may be happy.—If he stays, he is hang’d, and then he 23 is lost for ever!—He intended to lie conceal’d in my Room, ’till the Dusk of the Evening: If they are abroad I’ll this Instant let him out, lest some Accident should prevent him. Exit, and returns with Macheath.
Polly. Now I’m truly a mess.—I can already see him in the cart, looking even sweeter and lovelier than the bouquet in his hand!—I can hear the crowd praising his courage and bravery!—What waves of sighs are coming from the windows of Holborn, mourning that such a handsome young man should face disgrace!—I see him at the gallows! Everyone around is in tears!—even the butchers are crying!—Jack Ketch himself is hesitating to do his job, wishing he could skip his fee for a last-minute reprieve. What will become of Polly?—I can still warn him of their plan and help him escape.—That’s what I’ll do—But then he runs away, disappears, and I’ll miss his precious conversation! That’ll drive me crazy too.—If he stays out of sight, my mom and dad might eventually soften, and we could be happy.—If he sticks around, he’s going to be hanged, and then he’ll be lost to me forever!—He was planning to hide in my room until dusk: If they’re out, I’ll let him go right now before something happens that stops him. Exits, then returns with Macheath.
Macheath.
AIR XIV. Pretty Parrot, say—
Macheath.
Mack the Knife.
Pretty Polly, say,
Hey Polly, say,
When I was away,
While I was gone,
Did your fancy never stray
Did your fancy ever stray
To some newer Lover?
To a newer lover?
Polly.
Polly.
Without Disguise,
No Mask,
Heaving Sighs,
Sighing heavily,
Doting Eyes,
Loving Eyes,
My constant Heart discover.
My heart always discovers.
Fondly let me loll!
Let me relax!
Macheath.
Mack the Knife.
O pretty, pretty Poll.
O beautiful, beautiful Poll.
Polly. And are you as fond as ever, my Dear?
Polly. Are you still as fond as ever, my dear?
Macheath. Suspect my Honour, my Courage, suspect any thing but my Love.—May my Pistols miss Fire, 24 and my Mare slip her Shoulder while I am pursu’d, if I ever forsake thee!
Mack the Knife. Doubt my honor, my bravery, doubt anything but my love.—May my pistols misfire, 24 and my horse stumble while I'm being chased, if I ever leave you!
Polly. Nay, my Dear, I have no Reason to doubt you, for I find in the Romance you lent me, none of the great Heroes were ever false in Love.
Polly. No, my dear, I have no reason to doubt you, because I see in the romance you lent me that none of the great heroes were ever unfaithful in love.
AIR XV. Pray, Fair one, be kind—
Macheath.
Macheath.
My Heart was so free,
My heart felt so free,
It rov’d like the Bee,
It roved like the bee,
’Till Polly my Passion requited;
'Til Polly loves me back;
I sipt each Flower,
I sipped each flower,
I chang’d every Hour,
I changed every hour,
But here every Flower is united.
But here, every flower is together.
Polly. Were you sentenc’d to Transportation, sure, my Dear, you could not leave me behind you—could you?
Polly. If you were sentenced to exile, there’s no way you could leave me here—could you?
Macheath. Is there any Power, any Force that could tear me from thee? You might sooner tear a Pension out of the Hands of a Courtier, a Fee from a Lawyer, a pretty Woman from a Looking-glass, or any Woman from Quadrille.—But to tear me from thee is impossible!
Mack the Knife. Is there any power, any force that could separate me from you? You’d have a better chance of prying a pension from a courtier, a fee from a lawyer, a beautiful woman away from a mirror, or any woman away from a game of cards. But tearing me away from you is impossible!
AIR XVI. Over the Hills and far away.
Were I laid on Greenland’s Coast,
If I were laid on Greenland’s Coast,
And in my Arms embrac’d my Lass;
And I held my girl in my arms;
Warm amidst eternal Frost,
Warm in eternal Frost,
Too soon the Half Year’s Night would pass.
Too soon the Half Year’s Night would be over.
Polly.
Polly.
Were I sold on Indian Soil,
If I were sold on Indian soil,
Soon as the burning Day was clos’d,
Soon as the burning day was done,
I could mock the sultry Toil
I could tease the seductive Labor
When on my Charmer’s Breast repos’d.
When resting on my lover's chest.
Macheath.
Mack the Knife.
And I would love you all the Day,
And I would love you all day,
Polly.
Polly.
Every Night would kiss and play,
Every night, they would kiss and play,
Macheath.
Mack the Knife.
If with me you’d fondly stray
If you’d like to wander with me affectionately
Polly.
Polly.
Over the Hills and far away.
Over the hills and far away.
Polly. Yes, I would go with thee. But oh!—how shall I speak it? I must be torn from thee. We must part.
Polly. Yes, I would go with you. But oh!—how do I say this? I have to be separated from you. We must say goodbye.
Macheath. How! Part!
Macheath. How! Stop!
Polly. We must, we must.—My Papa and Mama are set against thy Life. They now, even now are in Search after thee. They are preparing Evidence against thee. Thy Life depends upon a moment.
Polly. We have to, we have to.—My dad and mom are completely against your life. Right now, they are looking for you. They are gathering evidence against you. Your life depends on a moment.
AIR XVII. Gin thou wert mine awn thing—
Oh what Pain it is to part!
Oh, what pain it is to say goodbye!
Can I leave thee, can I leave thee?
Can I leave you, can I leave you?
O what pain it is to part!
O what a pain it is to say goodbye!
Can thy Polly ever leave thee?
Can your Polly ever leave you?
But lest Death my Love should thwart,
But so that Death doesn't interfere with my Love,
And bring thee to the fatal Cart,
And take you to the deadly cart,
Thus I tear thee from my bleeding Heart!
Thus I rip you from my bleeding heart!
Fly hence, and let me leave thee.
Fly away now, and let me go.
One Kiss and then—one Kiss—be gone—farewel.
One kiss, then goodbye.
Macheath. My Hand, my Heart, my Dear, is so riveted to thine, that I cannot unloose my Hold.
Macheath. My hand, my heart, my dear, is so locked onto yours that I can’t let go.
Polly. But my Papa may intercept thee, and then I should lose the very glimmering of Hope. A few Weeks, perhaps, may reconcile us all. Shall thy Polly hear from thee?
Polly. But my dad might stop you, and then I'd lose even the slightest chance of hope. A few weeks, maybe, will help us all make up. Will your Polly hear from you?
Macheath. Must I then go?
Macheath. Do I have to go?
Polly. And will not Absence change your Love?
Polly. And won't being apart change your love?
Macheath. If you doubt it, let me stay—and be hang’d.
Mack the Knife. If you’re uncertain, let me stick around—and be hanged.
Polly. O how I fear! how I tremble!—Go—but when Safety will give you leave, you will be sure to see me again; for ’till then Polly is wretched.
Polly. Oh, how I’m scared! How I’m shaking!—Go, but when it’s safe for you to leave, you’ll definitely see me again; because until then Polly is miserable.
AIR XVIII. O the Broom, &c.
Macheath.
Macheath.
The Miser thus a Shilling sees,
The Miser sees a Shilling like this,
Which he’s oblig’d to pay,
Which he's obligated to pay,
With sighs resigns it by degrees,
With sighs, it gradually gives up.
And fears ’tis gone for ay.
And fears it’s lost forever.
Parting, and looking back at each other with fondness; he at one Door, she at the other.
Parting and looking back at each other with affection; he at one door, she at the other.
Polly.
Polly.
The Boy, thus, when his Sparrow’s flown,
The Boy, then, when his Sparrow's gone,
The Bird in Silence eyes;
The Silent Bird watches;
But soon as out of Sight ’tis gone,
But as soon as it's out of sight, it's gone,
Whines, whimpers, sobs and cries.
Whines, whimpers, sobs, and cries.
ACT II. SCENE I.
A Pub near Newgate.
Jemmy Twitcher, Crook-finger’d Jack, Wat Dreary, Robin of Bagshot, Nimming Ned, Henry Paddington, Matt of the Mint, Ben Budge, and the rest of the Gang, at the Table, with Wine, Brandy and Tobacco.
Jemmy Twitcher, Crook-fingered Jack, Wat Dreary, Robin of Bagshot, Nimming Ned, Henry Paddington, Matt of the Mint, Ben Budge, and the rest of the gang, sitting at the table with wine, brandy, and tobacco.
Ben. But pr’ythee, Matt, what is become of thy Brother Tom? I have not seen him since my Return from Transportation.
Ben. But please, Matt, what happened to your brother Tom? I haven't seen him since I got back from being away.
Matt. Poor Brother Tom had an Accident this time Twelve-month, and so clever a made fellow he was, that I could not save him from those fleaing Rascals the Surgeons; and now, poor Man, he is among the Otamys at Surgeons Hall.
Matt. Poor Brother Tom had an accident last year, and he was such a smart guy that I couldn't protect him from those money-grabbing surgeons; and now, poor guy, he's among the Otamys at Surgeons Hall.
Ben. So it seems, his Time was come.
Ben. So it looks like, his time has come.
Jemmy. But the present Time is ours, and no body alive hath more. Why are the Laws levell’d at us? are we more dishonest than the rest of Mankind? What we win, Gentlemen, is our own by the Law of Arms, and the Right of Conquest.
Jemmy. But right now is ours, and no one else has more. Why are the laws aimed at us? Are we more dishonest than everyone else? What we gain, gentlemen, is ours by the law of battle and the right of conquest.
Crook. Where shall we find such another Set of Practical Philosophers, who to a Man are above the Fear of Death?
Criminal. Where will we find another group of practical thinkers who, without exception, are unafraid of death?
Wat. Sound Men, and true!
Sound Men, for real!
Robin. Of try’d Courage, and indefatigable Industry!
Robin. Of proven courage, and relentless effort!
Ned. Who is there here that would not die for his Friend?
Ned. Who here wouldn’t die for a friend?
Harry. Who is there here that would betray him for his Interest?
Harry. Who here would betray him for their own benefit?
Matt. Shew me a Gang of Courtiers that can say as much.
Matt. Show me a group of courtiers who can say the same.
Ben. We are for a just Partition of the World, for every Man hath a Right to enjoy Life.
Ben. We support a fair division of the world, as everyone has the right to enjoy life.
Matt. We retrench the Superfluities of Mankind. The World is avaritious, and I hate Avarice. A covetous fellow, like a Jackdaw, steals what he was never made to enjoy, for the sake of hiding it. These are the Robbers of Mankind, for Money was made for the Free-hearted and Generous, and where is the Injury of taking from another, what he hath not the Heart to make use of?
Matt. We cut back on the excesses of humanity. The world is greedy, and I despise greed. A selfish person, like a magpie, takes what they were never meant to enjoy, just to keep it hidden. These are the thieves of humanity, because money was meant for those who are open-hearted and generous, so what’s wrong with taking from someone who doesn’t have the character to use it?
Jemmy. Our several Stations for the Day are fixt. Good luck attend us all. Fill the Glasses.
Jemmy. Our plans for the day are set. Wishing good luck to us all. Fill the glasses.
AIR XIX. Fill every Glass, &c.
Matt.
Matt.
Fill every Glass, for Wine inspires us,
Fill every glass, because wine inspires us,
And fires us
And fires us up
With Courage, Love and Joy.
With Courage, Love, and Joy.
Women and Wine should life employ.
Women and wine should be a part of life.
Is there ought else on Earth desirous?
Is there anything else on Earth that's desirable?
Chorus.
Chorus.
Fill every Glass, &c.
Fill every glass, &c.
To them enter Macheath.
Enter Macheath.
Macheath. Gentlemen, well met. My Heart hath been with you this Hour; but an unexpected Affair hath detain’d me. No Ceremony, I beg you.
Mack the Knife. Gentlemen, nice to see you. I've been thinking about you for the last hour, but something unexpected came up that kept me. No formalities, please.
Matt. We were just breaking up to go upon Duty. Am I to have the Honour of taking the Air with you, Sir, this Evening upon the Heath? I drink a Dram now and then with the Stagecoachmen in the way of Friendship and Intelligence; and I know that about this Time there will be Passengers upon the Western Road, who are worth speaking with.
Matt. We were just about to head off to work. Am I honored to take a walk with you, sir, this evening on the heath? I occasionally share a drink with the stagecoach drivers as a gesture of friendship and to keep informed; and I know that around this time, there will be passengers on the Western Road who are worth talking to.
Macheath. I was to have been of that Party—but—
Mack the Knife. I was supposed to be part of that group—but—
Matt. But what, Sir?
But what, Sir?
Macheath. Is there any Man who suspects my Courage?
Mack the Knife. Is there anyone who doubts my bravery?
Matt. We have all been Witnesses of it.
Matt. We've all witnessed it.
Macheath. My Honour and Truth to the Gang?
Macheath. My honor and loyalty to the gang?
Matt. I’ll be answerable for it.
Matt. I'll be responsible for it.
Macheath. In the Division of our Booty, have I ever shewn the least Marks of Avarice or Injustice?
Macheath. In splitting up our loot, have I ever shown the slightest signs of greed or unfairness?
Matt. By these Questions something seems to have ruffled you. Are any of us suspected?
Matt. These questions seem to have unsettled you. Are any of us under suspicion?
Macheath. I have a fixed Confidence, Gentlemen, in you all, as Men of Honour, and as such I value and respect you. Peachum is a Man that is useful to us.
Mack the Knife. I have complete trust in all of you, gentlemen, as honorable men, and I hold you in high regard. Peachum is someone who is beneficial to us.
Matt. Is he about to play us any foul Play? I’ll shoot him through the Head.
Matt. Is he about to pull any dirty tricks on us? I’ll take him out with a shot to the head.
Macheath. I beg you, Gentlemen, act with Conduct and Discretion. A Pistol is your last Resort.
Macheath. I ask you, gentlemen, to act with thoughtfulness and caution. A pistol should be your absolute last option.
Matt. He knows nothing of this Meeting.
Matt. He doesn't know anything about this meeting.
Macheath. Business cannot go on without him. He is a Man who knows the World, and is a necessary Agent to us. We have had a slight Difference, and ’till it is 31 accommodated I shall be oblig’d to keep out of his way. Any private Dispute of mine shall be of no ill consequence to my Friends. You must continue to act under his Direction, for the moment we break loose from him, our Gang is ruin’d.
Mack the Knife. Business can't continue without him. He's a guy who knows the world and is essential to us. We've had a minor disagreement, and until it gets resolved, I’ll have to avoid him. Any personal issue I have won't affect my friends. You need to keep working under his leadership because the moment we break away from him, our group is finished.
Matt. As a Bawd to a Whore, I grant you, he is to us of great Convenience.
Matt. Like a pimp to a prostitute, I admit, he is very useful to us.
Macheath. Make him believe I have quitted the Gang, which I can never do but with Life. At our private Quarters I will continue to meet you. A Week or so will probably reconcile us.
Mack the Knife. Convince him that I’ve left the Gang, which I can never do unless I’m dead. I’ll keep meeting you at our usual spot. A week or so will probably bring us back together.
Matt. Your Instructions shall be observ’d. ’Tis now high time for us to repair to our several Duties; so ’till the Evening at our Quarters in Moor-Fields we bid you farewel.
Matt. We will follow your instructions. It’s now time for us to get back to our respective tasks; so until this evening at our place in Moor-Fields, we say goodbye.
Macheath. I shall wish myself with you. Success attend you. Sits down melancholy at the Table.
Mack the Knife. I wish I could be with you. Good luck to you. Sits down, feeling sad at the table.
AIR XX. March in Rinaldo, with Drums and Trumpets.
Matt.
Matt.
Let us take the Road.
Let's take the road.
Hark! I hear the Sound of Coaches!
Hush! I hear the sound of carriages!
The Hour of Attack approaches,
The time to attack is near,
To your Arms, brave Boys, and load.
To your weapons, brave boys, and get ready.
See the Ball I hold!
Check out the ball I have!
Let the Chymists toil like Asses,
Let the chemists work hard like donkeys,
Our Fire their Fire surpasses,
Our fire exceeds their fire,
And turns all our Lead to Gold.
And turns all our lead into gold.
The Gang, rang’d in the Front of the Stage, load their Pistols, and stick them under their Girdles; then go off singing the first Part in Chorus.
The gang, lined up at the front of the stage, load their pistols and tuck them under their belts; then they leave, singing the first part in chorus.
Macheath. What a Fool is a fond Wench! Polly is most confoundedly bit.—I love the Sex. And a Man who loves Money, might as well be contented with one Guinea, as I with one Woman. The Town perhaps have been as much obliged to me, for recruiting it with free-hearted Ladies, as to any Recruiting Officer in the Army. If it were not for us, and the other Gentlemen of the Sword, Drury-Lane would be uninhabited.
Mack the Knife. What a fool a loving woman can be! Polly is really frustrated. I love women. And a man who loves money might as well be satisfied with one guinea as I am with one woman. The town might owe me just as much for bringing in generous ladies as it does to any recruiting officer in the army. Without us and other gentlemen of the sword, Drury-Lane would be deserted.
AIR XXI. Would you have a young Virgin, &c.
If the Heart of a Man is deprest with Cares,
If a man's heart is weighed down by worries,
The Mist is dispell’d when a Woman appears;
The mist disappears when a woman shows up;
Like the Notes of a Fiddle, she sweetly, sweetly
Like the notes of a violin, she sweetly, sweetly
Raises the Spirits, and charms our Ears,
Raises our spirits and charms our ears,
Roses and Lilies her Cheeks disclose,
Roses and lilies show on her cheeks,
But her ripe Lips are more sweet than those.
But her full lips are sweeter than those.
Press her,
Push her,
Caress her,
Touch her gently,
With Blisses,
With Joys,
Her Kisses
Her kisses
Dissolve us in Pleasure, and soft Repose.
Dissolve us in pleasure and gentle rest.
I must have Women. There is nothing unbends the Mind like them. Money is not so strong a Cordial for the Time. Drawer— Enter Drawer. Is the Porter gone for all the Ladies according to my Directions?
I need women. Nothing relaxes the mind like they do. Money isn't as effective a remedy for the moment. Drawer— Open Drawer. Has the porter gone to get all the ladies as I instructed?
Drawer. I expect him back every Minute. But you know, Sir, you sent him as far as Hockley in the Hole for three of the Ladies, for one in Vinegar-Yard, and for the rest of them somewhere about Lewkner’s-Lane. Sure some of them are below, for I hear the Bar-Bell. As they come I will shew them up. Coming, Coming.
Drawer. I expect him back any minute. But you know, sir, you sent him as far as Hockley in the Hole for three of the ladies, for one in Vinegar-Yard, and for the rest of them somewhere around Lewkner’s-Lane. Some of them must be below, because I hear the bar bell. As they arrive, I'll show them up. Coming, coming.
Enter Mrs. Coaxer, Dolly Trull, Mrs. Vixen, Betty Doxy, Jenny Diver, Mrs. Slammekin, Suky Tawdry, and Molly Brazen.
Enter Mrs. Coaxer, Dolly Trull, Mrs. Vixen, Betty Doxy, Jenny Diver, Mrs. Slammekin, Suky Tawdry, and Molly Brazen.
Macheath. Dear Mrs. Coaxer, you are welcome. You look charmingly to-day. I hope you don’t want the Repairs of Quality, and lay on Paint.—Dolly Trull! kiss me, you Slut; are you as amorous as ever, Hussy? You are always so taken up with stealing Hearts, that you don’t allow yourself Time to steal any thing else.—Ah Dolly, thou wilt ever be a Coquette! Mrs. Vixen, I’m yours, I always lov’d a Woman of Wit and Spirit; they make charming Mistresses, but plaguy Wives—Betty Doxy! Come hither, Hussy. Do you drink as hard as ever? You had better stick to good wholesom Beer; for in troth, Betty, Strong-Waters will in time ruin your Constitution. You should leave those to your Betters.—What! and my pretty Jenny Diver too! As prim and 34 demure as ever! There is not any Prude, though ever so high bred, hath a more sanctify’d Look, with a more mischievous Heart. Ah! thou art a dear artful Hypocrite.—Mrs. Slammekin! as careless and genteel as ever! all you fine Ladies, who know your own Beauty, affect an Undress.—But see, here’s Suky Tawdry come to contradict what I was saying. Every thing she gets one way she lays out upon her Back. Why, Suky, you must keep at least a Dozen Tallymen. Molly Brazen! She kisses him. That’s well done. I love a free-hearted Wench. Thou hast a most agreeable Assurance, Girl, and art as willing as a Turtle.—But hark! I hear Music. The Harper is at the Door. If Music be the Food of Love, play on. Ere you seat yourselves, Ladies, what think you of a Dance? Come in. Enter Harper. Play the French Tune, that Mrs. Slammekin was so fond of.
Mack the Knife. Dear Mrs. Coaxer, welcome! You look wonderful today. I hope you’re not thinking of wearing too much makeup. —Dolly Trull! Come here and kiss me, you flirt; are you as flirtatious as ever, you little tease? You’re always so busy stealing hearts that you don’t have time to take anything else. —Ah Dolly, you will always be a tease! Mrs. Vixen, I’m yours; I’ve always loved a woman who has wit and spirit; they make delightful lovers, but tricky wives. —Betty Doxy! Come here, you minx. Do you still drink as heavily as before? You should probably stick to good wholesome beer because honestly, Betty, hard liquor will ruin your health over time. You should leave that to those who can handle it. —What! And my sweet Jenny Diver too! As prim and proper as ever! No prude, no matter how high-born, has a more pious look with a more mischievous heart. Ah! you are a clever little hypocrite. —Mrs. Slammekin! As carefree and stylish as ever! All you lovely ladies who know your own beauty love to dress down. —But look, here’s Suky Tawdry to prove me wrong. Everything she gets goes right on her back. Come on, Suky, you must have at least a dozen admirers. Molly Brazen! She kisses him. That’s nice. I love a bold woman. You have a lovely confidence, girl, and you’re as eager as a dove. —But wait! I hear music. The harpist is at the door. If music be the food of love, play on. Before you sit down, ladies, what do you think about a dance? Come in. Enter Harper. Play the French tune that Mrs. Slammekin loves so much.
A Dance a la ronde in the French manner; near the end of it this song and Chorus.
A Dance a la ronde in the French style; toward the end of it is this song and Chorus.
AIR XXII. Cotillon.
Youth’s the Season made for Joys,
Youth is the season meant for joy,
Love is then our Duty,
Love is our Duty, then.
She alone who that employs,
She alone who uses that,
Well deserves her Beauty.
Well deserves her beauty.
Let’s be gay,
Let’s be ourselves,
While we may,
While we can,
Beauty’s a Flower, despis’d in Decay.
Beauty's a flower, overlooked in decay.
Youth’s the Season, &c.
Youth's the Season, &c.
Let us drink and sport to-day,
Let’s drink and have fun today,
Ours is not to-morrow.
Ours is not tomorrow.
Love with Youth flies swift away,
Love with Youth flies quickly away,
Age is nought but Sorrow.
Age is nothing but sorrow.
Dance and sing,
Dance and sing,
Time’s on the Wing.
Time's flying.
Life never knows the Return of Spring.
Life never recognizes the Return of Spring.
Chorus.
Chorus.
Let us drink, &c.
Let's drink, &c.
Macheath. Now, pray Ladies, take your Places. Here Fellow. Pays the Harper. Bid the Drawer bring us more Wine. Exit Harper. If any of the Ladies choose Ginn, I hope they will be so free to call for it.
Macheath. Now, please ladies, take your seats. Here’s the fellow. Pays the Harper. Tell the bartender to bring us more wine. Leave Harper. If any of the ladies want gin, I hope they’ll feel free to ask for it.
Jenny. You look as if you meant me. Wine is strong enough for me. Indeed, Sir, I never drink Strong-Waters, but when I have the Cholic.
Jenny. You look like you meant me. Wine is strong enough for me. Honestly, Sir, I never drink hard liquor unless I have a stomach ache.
Macheath. Just the Excuse of the fine Ladies! Why, a Lady of Quality is never without the Cholic. I hope, Mrs. Coaxer, you have had good Success of late in your Visits among the Mercers.
Mack the Knife. Just the excuse of the classy ladies! A highborn lady is never without a stomachache. I hope, Mrs. Coaxer, you've had good luck lately on your visits to the merchants.
Mrs. Coaxer. We have so many Interlopers—Yet with Industry, one may still have a little Picking. I carried a silver-flowered Lutestring, and a Piece of black Padesoy to Mr. Peachum’s Lock but last Week.
Ms. Coaxer. We have so many outsiders—yet with hard work, you can still find a little opportunity. I took a silver-flowered Lutestring and a piece of black Padesoy to Mr. Peachum’s Lock just last week.
Mrs. Vixen. There’s Molly Brazen hath the Ogle of a Rattle-Snake. She rivetted a Linen-Draper’s Eye so fast upon her, that he was nick’d of three Pieces of Cambric before he could look off.
Ms. Vixen. There’s Molly Brazen who has the look of a rattlesnake. She caught the attention of a linen merchant so intensely that he snagged three pieces of fabric before he could tear his gaze away.
Brazen. Oh dear Madam!—But sure nothing can come up to your handling of Laces! And then you have such a sweet deluding Tongue! To cheat a Man is nothing; but the Woman must have fine Parts indeed who cheats a Woman.
Bold. Oh dear Madam!—But truly, nothing compares to how you handle laces! And you have such an enticing way with words! It's easy to trick a man, but it takes a truly special woman to trick another woman.
Mrs. Vixen. Lace, Madam, lies in a small Compass, 36 and is of easy Conveyance. But you are apt, Madam, to think too well of your Friends.
Ms. Vixen. Lace, ma’am, is just in a small area, 36 and it's easy to carry. But you tend, ma’am, to have too high an opinion of your friends.
Mrs. Coaxer. If any woman hath more Art than another, to be sure, ’tis Jenny Diver. Though her Fellow be never so agreeable, she can pick his Pocket as coolly, as if money were her only Pleasure. Now that is a Command of the Passions uncommon in a Woman!
Ms. Coaxer. If any woman has more skill than the rest, it's definitely Jenny Diver. Even if her partner is charming, she can steal from him as easily as if money were her only joy. Now that’s a control over her emotions that’s rare in a woman!
Jenny. I never go to the Tavern with a Man, but in the View of Business. I have other Hours, and other sort of Men for my Pleasure. But had I your Address, Madam—
Jenny. I never go to the Tavern with a guy, only when there's business to discuss. I have different times and a different kind of guy for my enjoyment. But if I had your charm, Ma'am—
Macheath. Have done with your Compliments, Ladies; and drink about: You are not so fond of me, Jenny, as you use to be.
Mack the Knife. Enough with the flattery, ladies; let’s raise a drink. You’re not as fond of me, Jenny, as you used to be.
Jenny. ’Tis not convenient, Sir, to shew my Fondness among so many Rivals. ’Tis your own Choice, and not the Warmth of my Inclination that will determine you.
Jenny. It's not easy, Sir, to express my feelings when there are so many competitors. It's your decision, not my desire, that will influence you.
AIR XXIII. All in a misty Morning, &c.
Before the Barn-Door crowing,
Before the barn door crowing,
The Cock by Hens attended,
The Rooster attended by Hens,
His Eyes around him throwing,
His eyes scanning the area,
Stands for a while suspended.
Stays suspended for a while.
Then One he singles from the Crew,
Then he picks one from the crew,
And cheers the happy Hen;
And cheers to the happy Hen;
With how do you do, and how do you do,
With how are you, and how are you,
And how do you do again.
And how are you doing again?
Macheath. Ah Jenny! thou art a dear Slut.
Macheath. Ah Jenny! you are a dear Slut.
Jenny. A Man of Courage should never put any thing to the Risk but his Life. These are the Tools of a Man of Honour. Cards and Dice are only fit for cowardly Cheats, who prey upon their Friends.
Jenny. A courageous man should never risk anything except his life. These are the tools of an honorable man. Cards and dice are only suitable for cowardly cheats who take advantage of their friends.
She takes up his Pistol. Tawdry takes up the other.
She picks up his pistol. Tawdry grabs the other one.
Tawdry. This, Sir, is fitter for your Hand. Besides your Loss of Money, ’tis a Loss to the Ladies. Gaming takes you off from Women. How fond could I be of you! but before Company ’tis ill bred.
Tacky. This, Sir, is more suited for your hand. Besides losing money, it's a loss for the ladies. Gambling distracts you from women. I could be so fond of you! But it's not polite in front of company.
Macheath. Wanton Hussies!
Macheath. Loose Women!
Jenny. I must and will have a Kiss to give my Wine a Zest.
Jenny. I have to and will get a kiss to add some excitement to my drink.
They take him about the Neck and make signs to Peachum and Constables, who rush in upon him.
They grab him by the neck and signal to Peachum and the constables, who quickly rush in on him.
Peachum. I seize you, Sir, as my Prisoner.
Peachum. I’ve got you, Sir, as my prisoner.
Macheath. Was this well done, Jenny?—Women are Decoy Ducks; who can trust them! Beasts, Jades, Jilts, Harpies, Furies, Whores!
Mack the Knife. Was this a good move, Jenny?—Women are just bait; who can trust them! They’re cruel, deceitful, manipulative, dangerous, and promiscuous!
Peachum. Your Case, Mr. Macheath, is not particular. The greatest Heroes have been ruin’d by Women. But, to do them Justice, I must own they are a pretty sort of Creatures, if we could trust them. You must now, Sir, take your Leave of the Ladies, and if they have a mind to make you a Visit, they will be sure to find you at home. This Gentleman, Ladies, lodges in Newgate. Constables, wait upon the Captain to his Lodgings.
Peachum. Your situation, Mr. Macheath, is not unique. The greatest heroes have been brought down by women. But to be fair, I have to admit they are quite charming if we could actually trust them. You must now, sir, say goodbye to the ladies, and if they want to visit you, they’ll definitely find you at home. This gentleman, ladies, is staying in Newgate. Constables, please escort the Captain to his lodgings.
AIR XXIV. When first I laid Siege to my Chloris, &c.
Macheath.
Mack the Knife.
At the Tree I shall suffer with Pleasure,
At the Tree, I will endure with pleasure,
At the Tree I shall suffer with Pleasure,
At the Tree, I'll suffer with pleasure,
Let me go where I will,
Let me go wherever I want,
In all kinds of Ill,
In all kinds of pain,
I shall find no such Furies as these are.
I won't find any Furies like these.
Peachum. Ladies, I’ll take care the Reckoning shall be discharged.
Peachum. Ladies, I’ll ensure the bill is settled.
Exit Macheath, guarded with Peachum and Constables.
Exit Macheath, escorted by Peachum and Constables.
Mrs. Vixen. Look ye, Mrs. Jenny, though Mr. Peachum may have made a private Bargain with you and Suky Tawdry for betraying the Captain, as we were all assisting, we ought all to share alike.
Ms. Vixen. Listen up, Mrs. Jenny, even though Mr. Peachum might have made a secret deal with you and Suky Tawdry to turn on the Captain, since we were all involved, we should all get an equal share.
Mrs. Coaxer. I think Mr. Peachum, after so long an Acquaintance, might have trusted me as well as Jenny Diver.
Ms. Coaxer. I think Mr. Peachum, after knowing me for so long, should have trusted me just as much as Jenny Diver.
Mrs. Slammekin. I am sure at least three Men of his hanging, and in a Year’s time too (if he did me Justice) should be set down to my Account.
Mrs. Slammekin. I’m sure at least three men would hang because of him, and within a year too (if he were fair to me) should be counted against me.
Trull. Mrs. Slammekin, that is not fair. For you know one of them was taken in Bed with me.
Truly. Mrs. Slammekin, that's not fair. Because you know one of them was caught in bed with me.
Jenny. As far as a Bowl of Punch or a Treat, I believe Mrs. Suky will join with me.—As for any thing else, Ladies, you cannot in Conscience expect it.
Jenny. When it comes to a Bowl of Punch or a treat, I think Mrs. Suky will agree with me. As for anything else, ladies, you really can't expect that in good conscience.
Mrs. Slammekin. Dear Madam—
Mrs. Slammekin. Dear Ma'am—
Trull. I would not for the World—
Trull. I wouldn't do it for anything in the world—
Mrs. Slammekin. ’Tis impossible for me—
Mrs. Slammekin. It’s impossible for me—
Trull. As I hope to be sav’d, Madam—
Trill. As I hope to be saved, Madam—
Mrs. Slammekin. Nay, then I must stay here all Night—
Mrs. Slammekin. Well, I guess I have to stay here all night—
Trull. Since you command me.
Trull. Since you’re in charge.
Exeunt with great Ceremony.
Exit with great ceremony.
SCENE II. Newgate.
Lockit, Turnkeys, Macheath, Constables.
Lockit, Lockkeepers, Macheath, Officers.
Lockit. Noble Captain, you are welcome. You have not been a Lodger of mine this Year and half. You know the Custom, Sir. Garnish, Captain, Garnish. Hand me down those Fetters there.
Lock it. Noble Captain, you're welcome. You haven't stayed with me for a year and a half. You know the rules, Sir. Prepare the payment, Captain, prepare it. Hand me those shackles over there.
Macheath. Those, Mr. Lockit, seem to be the heaviest of the whole Set. With your Leave, I should like the further Pair better.
Mack the Knife. Those, Mr. Lockit, seem to be the heaviest of the whole group. If you don’t mind, I would prefer the other pair.
Lockit. Look ye, Captain, we know what is fittest for our Prisoners. When a Gentleman uses me with Civility, I always do the best I can to please him.—Hand them down I say.—We have them of all Prices, from one Guinea to ten, and ’tis fitting every Gentleman should please himself.
Lock it. Listen, Captain, we know what's best for our prisoners. When someone treats me with respect, I always do my best to keep them happy. —Bring them down, I say. —We have them at all prices, from one guinea to ten, and it's only right that every gentleman finds what suits him.
Macheath. I understand you, Sir. Gives Money. The Fees here are so many, and so exorbitant, that few Fortunes can bear the Expence of getting off handsomly, or of dying like a Gentleman.
Mack the Knife. I get what you're saying, Sir. Gives cash. The fees here are so high and outrageous that not many fortunes can handle the cost of getting out of this nicely or dying with dignity.
Lockit. Those, I see, will fit the Captain better—Take down the further Pair. Do but examine them, Sir.—Never was better work.—How genteely they are made!—They will fit as easy as a Glove, and the nicest Man in England might not be asham’d to wear them. He puts on the Chains. If I had the best Gentleman in the Land in my Custody I could not equip 41 him more handsomly. And so, Sir—I now leave you to your private Meditations.
Lock it. I can see these will suit the Captain better—Take down the other pair. Just take a look at them, Sir.—They’re beautifully made.—They’ll fit perfectly, and the finest man in England wouldn’t be embarrassed to wear them. He puts on the chains. If I had the best gentleman in the land in my custody, I couldn’t dress him more nicely. So, Sir—I’ll leave you to your private thoughts.
Exeunt leaving Macheath solus.
Exit leaving Macheath alone.
Macheath.
AIR XXV. Courtiers, Courtiers, think it no Harm, &c.
Man may escape from Rope and Gun;
Man may escape from rope and gun;
Nay, some have out liv’d the Doctor’s Pill;
Nay, some have outlived the Doctor’s pill;
Who takes a Woman must be undone,
Whoever takes a woman will be ruined,
That Basilisk is sure to kill.
That Basilisk is definitely going to kill.
The Fly that sips Treacle is lost in the Sweets,
The fly that drinks treacle is stuck in the candy,
So he that tastes Woman, Woman, Woman,
So he who experiences Woman, Woman, Woman,
He that tastes Woman, ruin meets.
He who gets involved with women will face ruin.
To what a woful Plight have I brought myself! Here must I (all Day long, ’till I am hang’d) be confin’d to hear the Reproaches of a Wench who lays her Ruin at my Door—I am in the Custody of her Father, and to be sure, if he knows of the matter, I shall have a fine time on’t betwixt this and my Execution.—But I promis’d the Wench Marriage—What signifies a Promise to a Woman? Does not Man in Marriage itself promise a hundred things that he never means to perform? Do all we can, Women will believe us; for they look upon a Promise as an Excuse for following their own Inclinations.—But here comes Lucy, and I cannot get from her.—Wou’d I were deaf!
What a miserable situation I’ve gotten myself into! Here I am, stuck all day long, until I’m hanged, having to listen to the complaints of a woman who blames me for her downfall. I’m under the control of her father, and if he finds out what’s going on, I’m in for a rough time before my execution. But I promised the woman marriage—what does a promise mean to a woman? Doesn’t a man promise a hundred things in marriage that he never intends to keep? No matter what we do, women will believe us, because they see a promise as a reason to pursue their own desires. But here comes Lucy, and I can’t escape her. I wish I were deaf!
Enter Lucy.
Enter Lucy.
Lucy. You base Man you,—how can you look me in the Face after what hath passed between us?—See here, perfidious Wretch, how I am forc’d to bear about the Load of Infamy you have laid upon me—O Macheath! thou hast robb’d me of my Quiet—to see thee tortur’d would give me Pleasure.
Lucy. You deceitful man—how can you look me in the eye after everything that has happened between us?—Look at this, you betrayer, how I have to carry the burden of shame you’ve placed on me—Oh Macheath! You’ve taken away my peace—seeing you suffer would actually bring me happiness.
AIR XXVI. A lovely Lass to a Friar came, &c.
Thus when a good Housewife sees a Rat
Thus when a good housewife sees a rat
In her Trap in the Morning taken,
In her Trap in the Morning taken,
With Pleasure her Heart goes pit-a-pat,
With joy, her heart races.
In Revenge for her Loss of Bacon.
In retaliation for her loss of bacon.
Then she throws him
Then she tosses him
To the Dog or Cat,
To the Dog or Cat,
To be worried, crush’d and shaken.
To feel anxious, overwhelmed, and unsettled.
Macheath. Have you no Bowels, no Tenderness, my dear Lucy, to see a Husband in these Circumstances?
Macheath. Do you have no compassion, no kindness, my dear Lucy, to see a husband in this situation?
Lucy. A Husband!
A husband!
Macheath. In ev’ry Respect but the Form, and that, my Dear, may be said over us at any time.—Friends should not insist upon Ceremonies. From a Man of Honour, his Word is as good as his Bond.
Macheath. In every way but the form, and that, my dear, can be said about us anytime. Friends shouldn't focus on formalities. For a man of honor, his word is as good as his bond.
Lucy. ’Tis the Pleasure of all you fine Men to insult the Women you have ruin’d.
Lucy. It's the pleasure of all you nice guys to insult the women you've hurt.
AIR XXVII. ’Twas when the Sea was roaring, &c.
How cruel are the Traitors,
How cruel are the traitors?
Who lye and swear in jest,
Who lies and swears in fun,
To cheat unguarded Creatures
To trick unguarded creatures
Of Virtue, Fame, and Rest!
Of Character, Reputation, and Peace!
Whoever steals a Shilling,
Whoever steals a shilling,
Through Shame the Guilt conceals:
Through shame, guilt hides:
In Love the perjur’d Villain
In Love the lying Villain
With Boasts the Theft reveals.
With Boasts, the Theft shows.
Macheath. The very first Opportunity, my Dear, (have but Patience) you shall be my Wife in whatever manner you please.
Macheath. The very first chance, my dear, (just be patient) you will be my wife in whatever way you want.
Lucy. Insinuating Monster! And so you think I know nothing of the Affair of Miss Polly Peachum.—I could tear thy Eyes out!
Lucy. You sneaky monster! So you think I know nothing about Miss Polly Peachum
Macheath. Sure, Lucy, you can’t be such a Fool as to be jealous of Polly!
Mack the Knife. Come on, Lucy, you can’t be so foolish as to be jealous of Polly!
Lucy. Are you not married to her, you Brute, you.
Lucy. Aren't you married to her, you brute?
Macheath. Married! Very good. The Wench gives it out only to vex thee, and to ruin me in thy good 44 Opinion. ’Tis true, I go to the House; I chat with the Girl, I kiss her, I say a thousand things to her (as all Gentlemen do) that mean nothing, to divert myself; and now the silly Jade hath set it about that I am married to her, to let me know what she would be at. Indeed, my dear Lucy, these violent Passions may be of ill consequence to a Woman in your Condition.
Mack the Knife. Married! That's ridiculous. The girl is just saying that to annoy you and to ruin my reputation in your eyes. It’s true, I go to her place; I chat with her, I kiss her, I say a bunch of things to her (like all gentlemen do) that don’t mean anything, just to entertain myself; and now the foolish girl has started spreading that I’m married to her, just to let me know what she wants. Honestly, my dear Lucy, these intense feelings can be harmful for a woman in your situation.
Lucy. Come, come, Captain, for all your Assurance, you know that Miss Polly hath put it out of your Power to do me the Justice you promis’d me.
Lucy. Come on, Captain, despite all your confidence, you know that Miss Polly has made it impossible for you to give me the justice you promised.
Macheath. A jealous Woman believes every thing her Passion suggests. To convince you of my Sincerity, if we can find the Ordinary, I shall have no Scruples of making you my Wife; and I know the Consequence of having two at a time.
Macheath. A jealous woman believes everything her feelings tell her. To prove my sincerity, if we can find the right person, I won’t hesitate to make you my wife; and I know the consequences of having two at once.
Lucy. That you are only to be hang’d, and so get rid of them both.
Lucy. All you have to do is get hanged, and then you can be rid of them both.
Macheath. I am ready, my dear Lucy, to give you Satisfaction—if you think there is any in Marriage.—What can a Man of Honour say more?
Mack the Knife. I'm ready, my dear Lucy, to make you happy—if you believe there's any happiness in marriage. What more can a man of honor say?
Lucy. So then, it seems, you are not married to Miss Polly.
Lucy. So it looks like you're not married to Miss Polly.
Macheath. You know, Lucy, the Girl is prodigiously conceited. No Man can say a civil thing to her, but (like other fine Ladies) her Vanity makes her think he’s her own for ever and ever.
Macheath. You know, Lucy, the girl is incredibly full of herself. No guy can say anything nice to her without her (like other pretty ladies) letting her vanity convince her that he’s hers forever.
AIR XXVIII. The Sun had loos’d his weary Teams, &c.
The first time at the Looking-glass
The first time at the Mirror
The Mother sets her Daughter,
The Mom sets her Daughter,
The Image strikes the smiling Lass
The image captivates the smiling girl.
With Self-love ever after,
With self-love forever,
Each time she looks, she, fonder grown,
Each time she looks, she grows fonder,
Thinks ev’ry Charm grows stronger.
Thinks every charm gets stronger.
But alas, vain Maid, all Eyes but your own
But unfortunately, vain girl, everyone but you
Can see you are not younger.
Can see you're not young.
When Women consider their own Beauties, they are all alike unreasonable in their Demands; for they expect their Lovers should like them as long as they like themselves.
When women think about their own beauty, they're all unreasonable in their expectations because they believe their partners should appreciate them as long as they appreciate themselves.
Lucy. Yonder is my Father—perhaps this way we may light upon the Ordinary, who shall try if you will be as good as your Word.—For I long to be made an honest Woman. Exeunt.
Lucy. Over there is my Father—maybe we can find the Ordinary, who will see if you can keep your promise.—Because I really want to be made an honest woman. Exit.
Enter Peachum and Lockit with an Account-Book.
Enter Peachum and Lockit with a ledger.
Lockit. In this last Affair, Brother Peachum, we are agreed. You have consented to go halves in Macheath.
Lock it. In this final matter, Brother Peachum, we're on the same page. You've agreed to split Macheath with me.
Peachum. We shall never fall out about an Execution—But as to that Article, pray how stands our last Year’s Account?
Peachum. We won't argue about an execution—But regarding that matter, how are we doing with last year's account?
Lockit. If you will run your Eye over it, you’ll find ’tis fair and clearly stated.
Lock it. If you take a look at it, you’ll see it’s well-written and easy to understand.
Peachum. This long Arrear of the Government is very hard upon us! Can it be expected that we would hang our Acquaintance for nothing, when our Betters will hardly save theirs without being paid for it. Unless the People in Employment pay better, I promise them for the future, I shall let other Rogues live besides their own.
Peachum. This long delay in payment from the Government is really tough for us! Can anyone really expect us to hang out our friends for free when those above us barely save their own without getting paid? Unless people in jobs start paying better, I can promise you that in the future, I'll let other criminals live alongside their own.
Lockit. Perhaps, Brother, they are afraid these Matters may be carried too far. We are treated too by them with Contempt, as if our Profession were not reputable.
Lock it. Maybe, Brother, they're worried these issues might go too far. They also treat us with disdain, as if our profession isn’t respectable.
Peachum. In one respect indeed our Employment may be reckon’d dishonest, because, like Great Statesmen, we encourage those who betray their Friends.
Peachum. In one way, our work can definitely be seen as dishonest because, like powerful politicians, we support those who turn against their friends.
Lockit. Such Language, Brother, any where else, might turn to your Prejudice. Learn to be more guarded, I beg you.
Lock it. Such language, brother, anywhere else might work against you. I urge you to be more careful.
AIR XXIX. How happy are we, &c.
When you censure the Age,
When you criticize the Age,
Be cautious and sage,
Be careful and wise,
Lest the Courtiers offended should be:
In case the courtiers are offended:
If you mention Vice or Bribe,
If you mention Vice or Bribe,
’Tis so pat to all the Tribe;
’Tis so pat to all the Tribe;
Each cries—That was levell’d at me.
Each one cries, "That was aimed at me."
Peachum. Here’s poor Ned Clincher’s Name, I see. Sure, Brother Lockit, there was a little unfair Proceeding in Ned’s Case: for he told me in the Condemn’d Hold, that for Value receiv’d, you had promis’d him a Session or two longer without Molestation.
Peachum. I see poor Ned Clincher's name here. Honestly, Brother Lockit, there was something unfair about Ned's situation: he told me in the condemned cell that you promised him a session or two more without any trouble, in exchange for something he gave you.
Lockit. Mr. Peachum—this is the first time my Honour was ever call’d in Question.
Lock it. Mr. Peachum—this is the first time my honor has ever been questioned.
Peachum. Business is at an end—if once we act dishonourably.
Peachum. It's game over for our business if we ever act dishonorably.
Lockit. Who accuses me?
Lockit. Who's accusing me?
Peachum. You are warm, Brother.
Peachum. You're warm, Brother.
Lockit. He that attacks my Honour, attacks my 47 Livelihood.—And this Usage—Sir—is not to be borne.
Lock it. Anyone who goes after my honor is going after my 47 livelihood.—And this treatment—Sir—is unacceptable.
Peachum. Since you provoke me to speak—I must tell you too, that Mrs. Coaxer charges you with defrauding her of her Information-Money, for the apprehending of curl-pated Hugh. Indeed, indeed, Brother, we must punctually pay our Spies, or we shall have no Information.
Peachum. Since you’re pushing me to say something—I also have to tell you that Mrs. Coaxer accuses you of cheating her out of her Information-Money for capturing the curly-haired Hugh. Seriously, Brother, we need to pay our Spies on time, or we won’t get any Information.
Lockit. Is this Language to me, Sirrah,—who have sav’d you from the Gallows, Sirrah! Collaring each other.
Lock it. Is this how you talk to me, dude—who kept you off the gallows, dude! Collaring one another.
Peachum. If I am hang’d, it shall be for ridding the World of an arrant Rascal.
Peachum. If I get hanged, it will be for getting rid of a complete scoundrel.
Lockit. This Hand shall do the Office of the Halter you deserve, and throttle you—you Dog!—
Lock it. This hand will do the job of the noose you deserve and strangle you—you dog!—
Peachum. Brother, Brother—We are both in the Wrong—We shall be both Losers in the Dispute—for you know we have it in our Power to hang each other. You should not be so passionate.
Peachum. Brother, Brother—We're both in the wrong—We'll both end up losing in this argument—because you know we can easily hang each other. You shouldn't be so worked up.
Lockit. Nor you so provoking.
Lockit. You’re not so annoying.
Peachum. ’Tis our mutual Interest; ’tis for the Interest of the World we should agree. If I said any thing, Brother, to the Prejudice of your Character, I ask pardon.
Peachum. It's in our shared interest; it's for the good of everyone that we should come to an agreement. If I said anything, Brother, that tarnished your reputation, I sincerely apologize.
Lockit. Brother Peachum—I can forgive as well as resent.—Give me your Hand. Suspicion does not become a Friend.
Lock it. Brother Peachum—I can both forgive and feel hurt. —Give me your hand. Doubt isn't fitting for a friend.
Peachum. I only meant to give you Occasion to justify yourself: But I must now step home, for I expect the Gentleman about this Snuff-box, that Filch nimm’d two Nights ago in the Park. I appointed him at this Hour. Exit Peachum.
Peachum. I just wanted to give you a chance to explain yourself, but I need to head home now because I'm expecting the guy about this snuffbox that Filch stole two nights ago in the park. I arranged to meet him at this time. Exit Peachum.
Enter Lucy.
Enter Lucy.
Lockit. Whence come you, Hussy?
Lockit. Where do you come from, Hussy?
Lucy. My Tears might answer that Question.
Lucy. My tears could answer that question.
Lockit. You have then been whimpering and fondling, like a Spaniel, over the Fellow that hath abus’d you.
Lock it. So, you've been whining and fawning, like a puppy, over the guy who mistreated you.
Lucy. One can’t help Love; one can’t cure it. ’Tis not in my Power to obey you, and hate him.
Lucy. You can't control love; you can't fix it. I just can't obey you and hate him.
Lockit. Learn to bear your Husband’s Death like a reasonable Woman. ’Tis not the fashion, now-a-days, so much as to affect Sorrow upon these Occasions. No Woman would ever marry, if she had not the Chance of Mortality for a Release. Act like a Woman of Spirit, Hussy, and thank your Father for what he is doing.
Lock it. Learn to handle your husband’s death like a sensible woman. These days, it's not really the style to show too much sorrow during these times. No woman would ever get married if she didn't have the option of mortality as a way out. Be a woman of strength, you silly girl, and appreciate your father for what he’s doing.
AIR XXX. Of a noble Race was Shenkin.
Lucy.
Lucy.
Is then his Fate decreed, Sir?
Is his fate already decided, sir?
Such a Man can I think of quitting?
Such a man can I imagine leaving?
When first we met, so moves me yet,
When we first met, it still affects me deeply,
O see how my Heart is splitting!
O see how my heart is breaking!
Lockit. Look ye, Lucy—There is no saving him.—So, I think, you must ev’n do like other Widows—buy yourself Weeds, and be chearful.
Lock it. Listen, Lucy—There’s no saving him. So, I think you should just do what other widows do—get yourself some black clothes and try to be cheerful.
AIR XXXI.
You’ll think ere many Days ensue
You’ll think before many days go by.
This Sentence not severe;
This sentence isn't severe;
I hang your Husband, Child, ’tis true,
I hang your husband, child, it's true,
But with him hang your Care.
But with him hangs your worry.
Twang dang dillo dee.
Twang dang dillo dee.
Like a good Wife, go moan over your dying Husband. That, Child is your Duty—Consider, Girl, you can’t have the Man and the Money too—so make yourself as easy as you can, by getting all you can from him. Exit Lockit.
Like a good wife, go mourn over your dying husband. That, child, is your duty—remember, girl, you can’t have the man and the money too—so make yourself as comfortable as you can by getting all you can from him. Exit Lockit.
Enter Macheath.
Enter Macheath.
Lucy. Though the Ordinary was out of the way to-day, I hope, my Dear, you will, upon the first Opportunity, quiet my Scruples—Oh Sir!—my Father’s hard heart is not to be soften’d, and I am in the utmost Despair.
Lucy. Even though the Ordinary isn’t around today, I hope, my dear, that you’ll reassure me at the first chance you get—Oh sir!—my father’s hard heart cannot be softened, and I am in complete despair.
Macheath. But if I could raise a small Sum—Would not twenty Guineas, think you, move him?—Of all the Arguments in the way of Business, the Perquisite is the most prevailing—Your Father’s Perquisites for the Escape of Prisoners must amount to a considerable Sum in the Year. Money well tim’d, and properly apply’d, will do any thing.
Mack the Knife. But if I could come up with a little money—Wouldn’t twenty guineas, do you think, be enough to sway him?—Out of all the arguments in business, incentives are the most effective—Your father's incentives for helping prisoners escape must add up to a significant amount each year. Money that's well-timed and used wisely can accomplish anything.
AIR XXXII. London Ladies.
If you at an Office solicit your Due,
If you at an Office ask for what you're owed,
And would not have Matters neglected;
And would not allow things to be overlooked;
You must quicken the Clerk with the Perquisite too,
You should hurry the Clerk with the extra benefit too,
To do what his Duty directed.
To follow what his duty required.
Or would you the Frowns of a Lady prevent,
Or would you prevent the frowns of a lady,
She too has this palpable Failing,
She also has this obvious weakness,
The Perquisite softens her into Consent;
The perk makes her more open to agreeing;
That Reason with all is prevailing.
That reason is dominant over everything.
Lucy. What Love or Money can do shall be done: for all my Comfort depends upon your Safety.
Lucy. Whatever Love or Money can achieve will be done: because my happiness relies entirely on your safety.
Enter Polly.
Enter Polly.
Polly. Where is my dear Husband?—Was a Rope ever intended for this Neck!—O let me throw my Arms about it, and throttle thee with Love!—Why dost thou turn away from me? ’Tis thy Polly—’Tis thy Wife.
Polly. Where is my dear husband?—Was a rope ever meant for this neck!—Oh, let me wrap my arms around it and squeeze you with love!—Why do you turn away from me? It’s your Polly—It’s your wife.
Macheath. Was ever such an unfortunate Rascal as I am!
Macheath. Is there ever been such an unfortunate guy as I am!
Lucy. Was there ever such another Villain!
Lucy. Was there ever a villain like that!
Polly. O Macheath! was it for this we parted? Taken! Imprisoned! Try’d! Hang’d—cruel Reflection! I’ll stay with thee ’till Death—no Force shall tear thy dear Wife from thee now.—What means my Love?—Not one kind Word! not one kind Look! think what thy Polly suffers to see thee in this Condition.
Polly. Oh Macheath! Is this why we broke up? Caught! Imprisoned! Tried! Hanged—what a cruel thought! I’ll stay with you until death—no one will tear your dear wife away from you now. What’s wrong, my love? Not a single kind word! Not one kind look! Just think about what your Polly is going through seeing you like this.
AIR XXXIII. All in the Downs, &c.
Thus when the Swallow seeking Prey,
Thus when the swallow is looking for food,
Within the Sash is closely pent,
Within the Sash is closely confined,
His Consort, with bemoaning Lay,
His partner, with lamenting song,
Without sits pining for th’ Event.
Without sits yearning for the Event.
Her chatt’ring Lovers all around her skim;
Her chatting lovers all around her hover;
She heeds them not (poor Bird!) her Soul’s with him.
She doesn’t pay attention to them (poor Bird!) her heart is with him.
Macheath. Aside. I must disown her. Aloud. The Wench is distracted.
Mack the Knife. Aside. I have to break ties with her. Out loud. The girl is out of her mind.
Lucy. Am I then bilk’d of my Virtue? Can I have no Reparation? Sure Men were born to lie, and Women to believe them! O Villain! Villain!
Lucy. Am I really stripped of my virtue? Can I not get any compensation? It seems like men are always lying, and women are just meant to believe them! Oh, what a villain! What a villain!
Polly. Am I not thy Wife?—Thy Neglect of me, thy Aversion to me too severely proves it.—Look on me.—Tell me, am I not thy Wife?
Polly. Am I not your wife? Your neglect of me and your dislike for me make that painfully clear. Look at me. Tell me, am I not your wife?
Lucy. Perfidious Wretch!
Lucy. Betraying Scoundrel!
Polly. Barbarous Husband!
Barbaric husband!
Lucy. Hadst thou been hang’d five Months ago, I had been happy.
Lucy. If you had been hanged five months ago, I would have been happy.
Polly. And I too—If you had been kind to me ’till Death, it would not have vexed me—And that’s no very unreasonable Request, (though from a Wife) to a Man who hath not above seven or eight Days to live.
Polly. And I too—If you had been kind to me until Death, it wouldn't have bothered me—And that's not a very unreasonable request, (even from a wife) to a man who has only seven or eight days to live.
Lucy. Art thou then married to another? Hast thou two Wives, Monster?
Lucy. Are you married to someone else then? Do you have two wives, you monster?
Macheath. If Women’s Tongues can cease for an Answer—hear me.
Mack the Knife. If women can stop talking long enough to listen—hear me.
Lucy. I won’t.—Flesh and Blood can’t bear my Usage.
Lucy. I won’t.—Flesh and blood can’t handle what I’m putting them through.
Polly. Shall I not claim my own? Justice bids me speak.
Polly. Shouldn't I claim what’s mine? Justice compels me to speak.
AIR XXXIV. Have you heard of a frolicksome Ditty, &c.
Macheath.
Mack the Knife.
How happy could I be with either,
How happy could I be with either?
Were t’other dear Charmer away!
If only the other dear Charmer were away!
But while you thus teaze me together,
But while you keep teasing me like this,
To neither a Word will I say;
Stay silent;
But tol de rol, &c.
But tol de rol, &c.
Polly. Sure, my Dear, there ought to be some Preference shewn to a Wife! At least she may claim the Appearance of it. He must be distracted with his Misfortunes, or he could not use me thus.
Polly. Of course, my dear, a wife should definitely be given some preference! At the very least, she deserves the appearance of it. He must be really overwhelmed by his misfortunes if he treats me this way.
Lucy. O Villain, Villain! thou hast deceiv’d me.—I could even inform against thee with Pleasure. Not a Prude wishes more heartily to have Facts against her intimate Acquaintance, than I now wish to have Facts against thee. I would have her Satisfaction, and they should all out.
Lucy. Oh, villain, villain! You’ve betrayed me. I could even report you with pleasure. No prude wishes more genuinely to have proof against her close friend than I wish to have proof against you right now. I want my satisfaction, and it should all come out.
AIR XXXV. Irish Trot.
Polly.
Polly.
I am bubbled.
I am feeling overwhelmed.
Lucy.
Lucy.
I am bubbled.I’m bubbled.
I’m zoned out.
Polly.
Polly.
O how I am troubled!
Oh, how I am troubled!
Lucy.
Lucy.
Bambouzled, and bit!
Bamboozled, and bitten!
Polly.
Polly.
Bambouzled, and bit!My Distresses are doubled.
Bamboozled and bitten!My struggles are doubled.
Lucy.
Lucy.
When you come to the Tree, should the Hangman refuse,
When you get to the Tree, if the Hangman doesn't agree,
These Fingers, with Pleasure, could fasten the Noose.
These fingers could happily tie the knot.
Polly.
Polly.
I’m bubbled, &c.
I’m in a bubble, etc.
Macheath. Be pacified, my dear Lucy—This is all a Fetch of Polly’s, to make me desperate with you in case I get off. If I am hang’d, she would fain have the Credit 54 of being thought my Widow—Really, Polly, this is no time for a Dispute of this sort; for whenever you are talking of Marriage, I am thinking of Hanging.
Mack the Knife. Calm down, my dear Lucy—This is all a trick by Polly to make me desperate for you in case I get away. If I'm hanged, she would love to have the reputation of being my widow—Honestly, Polly, this isn’t the time for an argument like this; whenever you’re talking about marriage, I’m thinking about being hanged. 54
Polly. And hast thou the Heart to persist in disowning me?
Polly. Do you really have the heart to keep denying me?
Macheath. And hast thou the Heart to persist in persuading me that I am married? Why, Polly, dost thou seek to aggravate my Misfortunes?
Mack the Knife. Do you really have the heart to keep trying to convince me that I'm married? Why, Polly, are you trying to make my problems worse?
Lucy. Really, Miss Peachum, you but expose yourself. Besides, ’tis barbarous in you to worry a Gentleman in his Circumstances.
Lucy. Honestly, Miss Peachum, you're just making yourself look bad. Plus, it’s cruel of you to bother a gentleman when he’s dealing with his own problems.
AIR XXXVI.
Polly.
Polly.
Cease your Funning;
Stop your joking;
Force or Cunning
Force or Strategy
Never shall my Heart trapan.
Never will my heart be trapped.
All these Sallies
All these Sallys
Are but Malice
Are just malice
To seduce my constant Man.
To seduce my steady guy.
’Tis most certain,
It's very certain,
By their flirting
Through their flirting
Women oft’ have Envy shown.
Women often show envy.
Pleas’d, to ruin
Pleased to ruin
Others wooing;
Others dating;
Never happy in their own.
Never happy on their own.
Polly. Decency, Madam, methinks might teach you to behave yourself with some Reserve with the Husband, while his Wife is present.
Polly. Respect, Madam, I think should guide you to act with some restraint around the Husband while his Wife is here.
Macheath. But seriously, Polly, this is carrying the Joke a little too far.
Macheath. But seriously, Polly, this is taking the joke a bit too far.
Lucy. If you are determin’d, Madam, to raise a Disturbance in the Prison, I shall be obliged to send for the Turnkey to shew you the Door. I am sorry, Madam, you force me to be so ill-bred.
Lucy. If you're set on causing a commotion in the prison, I'll have to call the guard to show you the way out. I'm sorry, but you’re making me act this way.
Polly. Give me leave to tell you, Madam: These forward Airs don’t become you in the least, Madam. And my Duty, Madam, obliges me to stay with my Husband, Madam.
Polly. Allow me to say, Madam: This attitude really doesn’t suit you at all, Madam. And my duty, Madam, requires me to remain with my husband, Madam.
AIR XXXVII. Good-morrow, Gossip Joan.
Lucy.
Lucy.
Why how now, Madam Flirt?
What's up now, Madam Flirt?
If you thus must chatter;
If you must talk then;
And are for flinging Dirt,
And are for throwing dirt,
Let’s try who best can spatter;
Let’s see who can splatter the most;
Madam Flirt.
Ms. Flirt.
Polly.
Polly.
Why how now, saucy Jade;
Why, how now, sassy Jade;
Sure the Wench is tipsy!
Sure the girl is tipsy!
How can you see me made To him.
How can you see me be To him.
The Scoff of such a Gipsy?
The sneer of such a Gypsy?
Saucy Jade! To her.
Saucy Jade! To her.
Enter Peachum.
Enter Peachum.
Peachum. Where’s my Wench? Ah Hussy! Hussy!—Come you home, you Slut; and when your Fellow is hang’d, hang yourself, to make your Family some Amends.
Peachum. Where's my girl? Oh you troublemaker! Troublemaker!—Get home now, you mess; and when your guy is hanged, you should hang yourself too, to make it up to your family.
Polly. Dear, dear Father, do not tear me from him—I must speak; I have more to say to him—Oh! twist thy Fetters about me, that he may not haul me from thee!
Polly. Oh, dear Father, please don’t pull me away from him—I need to talk to him; I have so much more to tell him—Oh! wrap your chains around me, so he can’t drag me away from you!
Peachum. Sure all Women are alike! If ever they commit the Folly, they are sure to commit another by exposing themselves—Away—Not a Word more—You are my Prisoner, now, Hussy.
Peachum. Sure, all women are the same! If they ever make a fool of themselves, they're definitely going to make another mistake by showing it off—Enough—Not another word—You’re my prisoner now, girl.
AIR XXXVIII. Irish Howl.
Polly.
Polly.
No Power on Earth can e’er divide
No power on Earth can ever divide
The Knot that sacred Love hath ty’d.
The bond that sacred love has tied.
When Parents draw against our Mind,
When parents pull from our thoughts,
The True-Love’s Knot they faster bind.
The True-Love’s Knot they tie more quickly.
Oh, oh ray, oh Amborah—oh, oh, &c.
Oh, oh ray, oh Amborah—oh, oh, &c.
Holding Macheath, Peachum pulling her.
Holding Macheath, Peachum pulling her along.
SCENE III. The Same.
Lucy, Macheath.
Lucy, Macheath.
Macheath. I am naturally compassionate, Wife; so that I could not use the Wench as she deserv’d; which made you at first suspect there was something in what she said.
Mack the Knife. I'm naturally compassionate, dear; so I couldn't treat the woman as she deserved, which made you suspect there was some truth in what she said from the beginning.
Lucy. Indeed, my Dear, I was strangely puzzled.
Lucy Seriously, my dear, I was quite confused.
Macheath. If that had been the Case, her Father would never have brought me into this Circumstance—No, Lucy,—I had rather die than be false to thee.
Mack the Knife. If that were true, her father would never have put me in this situation—No, Lucy,—I’d rather die than be unfaithful to you.
Lucy. How happy am I, if you say this from your Heart! For I love thee so, that I could sooner bear to see thee hang’d than in the Arms of another.
Lucy. How happy would I be if you really mean that! I love you so much that I would rather see you hanged than in someone else's arms.
Macheath. But could’st thou bear to see me hang’d?
Mack the Knife. But could you handle seeing me hanged?
Lucy. O Macheath, I can never live to see that Day.
Lucy. O Macheath, I can never live to see that day.
Macheath. You see, Lucy; in the Account of Love you are in my Debt, and you must now be convinc’d, that I rather choose to die than be another’s.—Make me, if possible, love thee more, and let me owe my Life to thee—If you refuse to assist me, Peachum and your Father will immediately put me beyond all means of Escape.
Mack the Knife. You see, Lucy; in the story of love, I owe you, and you have to understand that I would rather die than be with someone else. —If you can, make me love you even more, and let my life depend on you. —If you won’t help me, Peachum and your father will make sure I have no way to escape.
Lucy. My Father, I know, hath been drinking hard with the Prisoners: and I fancy he is now taking his Nap in his own Room—If I can procure the Keys, shall I go off with thee, my Dear?
Lucy. I know my dad has been drinking a lot with the prisoners, and I think he's probably taking a nap in his room right now. If I can get the keys, should I leave with you, my dear?
Macheath. If we are together, ’twill be impossible to lie conceal’d. As soon as the Search begins to be a 58 little cool, I will send to thee—’Till then my Heart is thy Prisoner.
Mack the Knife. If we’re together, it will be impossible to hide. As soon as the search starts to cool down a bit, I will send for you—until then, my heart is your prisoner.
Lucy. Come then, my dear Husband—owe thy Life to me—and though you love me not—be grateful,—but that Polly runs in my Head strangely.
Lucy. Come on then, my dear husband—your life is thanks to me—and even if you don’t love me—at least be grateful—but it’s odd how Polly keeps popping into my mind.
Macheath. A moment of Time may make us unhappy for ever.
Mack the Knife. Just a single moment can make us unhappy forever.
AIR XXXIX. The Lass of Patie’s Mill, &c.
Lucy.
Lucy.
I like the Fox shall grieve,
I like the Fox will be sad,
Whose Mate hath left her Side,
Whose mate has left her side,
Whom Hounds from Morn to Eve,
Whom Hounds from Morning to Evening,
Chase o’er the Country wide.
Chase across the countryside.
Where can my Lover hide?
Where can my partner hide?
Where cheat the wary Pack?
Where does the cautious Pack hide?
If Love be not his Guide,
If Love is not his Guide,
He never will come back!
He’s never coming back!
Exeunt.
Exit.
ACT III. SCENE I.
Scene, Newgate.
Lockit, Lucy.
Lockit, Lucy.
Lockit. To be sure, Wench, you must have been aiding and abetting to help him to this Escape.
Lock it. For sure, Wench, you must have been helping him pull off this escape.
Lucy. Sir, here hath been Peachum and his Daughter Polly, and to be sure they know the Ways of Newgate as well as if they had been born and bred in the Place all their Lives. Why must all your Suspicion light upon me?
Lucy. Sir, Peachum and his daughter Polly have been here, and they definitely know the ins and outs of Newgate just as if they were born and raised there. Why does all your suspicion have to fall on me?
Lockit. Lucy, Lucy, I will have none of these shuffling Answers.
Lock it. Lucy, Lucy, I don’t want any of these vague answers.
Lucy. Well then—If I know any thing of him I wish I may be burnt!
Lucy. Well then—If I know anything about him, I hope I get burned!
Lockit. Keep your Temper, Lucy, or I shall pronounce you guilty.
Lock it. Control your temper, Lucy, or I’ll have to declare you guilty.
Lucy. Keep yours, Sir,—I do wish I may be burnt. I do—And what can I say more to convince you?
Lucy. Keep yours, Sir—I really hope I get burned. I do—and what more can I say to prove it to you?
Lockit. Did he tip handsomly?—How much did he come down with? Come, Hussy, don’t cheat your Father; and I shall not be angry with you—Perhaps, you have made a better Bargain with him than I could have done—How much, my good Girl?
Lock it. Did he give a good tip?—How much did he hand over? Come on, Hussy, don’t lie to your father; I won’t be mad at you—Maybe you got a better deal with him than I could have—How much, my good girl?
Lucy. You know, Sir, I am fond of him, and would have given Money to have kept him with me.
Lucy. You know, Sir, I really like him, and I would have paid money to keep him with me.
Lockit. Ah Lucy! thy Education might have put thee more upon thy Guard; for a Girl in the Bar of an Ale-house is always besieg’d.
Lock it. Ah Lucy! Your upbringing should have made you more cautious, because a girl in a bar is always under threat.
Lucy. Dear Sir, mention not my Education—for ’twas to that I owe my Ruin.
Lucy. Dear Sir, please don’t bring up my education—it’s what led to my ruin.
AIR XL. If Love’s a sweet Passion, &c.
When young at the Bar you first taught me to score,
When I was young at the Bar, you first taught me how to keep score,
And bid me be free of my Lips, and no more;
And tell me to be free of my lips, and nothing more;
I was kiss’d by the Parson, the Squire, and the Sot,
I was kissed by the Parson, the Squire, and the Drunkard,
When the Guest was departed, the Kiss was forgot.
When the guest left, the kiss was forgotten.
But his Kiss was so sweet, and so closely he prest,
But his kiss was so sweet, and he held me so close,
That I languish’d and pin’d till I granted the rest.
That I suffered and longed until I agreed to the rest.
If you can forgive me, Sir, I will make a fair Confession, for to be sure he hath been a most barbarous Villain to me.
If you can forgive me, Sir, I will make a sincere confession, because he has truly been a terrible villain to me.
Lockit. And so you have let him escape, Hussy—Have you?
Lock it. So you let him get away, haven't you, Hussy?
Lucy. When a Woman loves; a kind Look, a tender Word can persuade her to any thing—And I could ask no other Bribe.
Lucy. When a woman loves, a gentle look and kind words can convince her to do anything—and that's all the incentive I need.
Lockit. Thou wilt always be a vulgar Slut, Lucy.—If you would not be look’d upon as a Fool, you should never do any thing but upon the foot of Interest. Those that act otherwise are their own Bubbles.
Lock it. You'll always be a common slut, Lucy.—If you don’t want to be seen as a fool, you should only do things with self-interest in mind. Those who act differently only fool themselves.
Lucy. But Love, Sir, is a Misfortune that may happen to the most discreet Women, and in Love we are all Fools alike—Notwithstanding all he swore, I am now fully convinc’d that Polly Peachum is actually his Wife.—Did I let him escape, (Fool that I was!) to go to her?—Polly will wheedle herself into his Money, and then Peachum will hang him, and cheat us both.
Lucy. But love, Sir, is a misfortune that can happen to even the most sensible women, and when it comes to love, we're all fools—Despite everything he promised, I'm now completely convinced that Polly Peachum is actually his wife. Did I really let him get away, (how foolish of me!) to go to her?—Polly will charm her way into his money, and then Peachum will hang him and cheat us both.
Lockit. So I am to be ruin’d, because, forsooth, you must be in Love!—a very pretty Excuse!
Lock it. So I'm going to be ruined just because you have to be in love!—what a convenient excuse!
Lucy. I could murder that impudent happy Strumpet:—I gave him his Life, and that Creature enjoys the Sweets of it.—Ungrateful Macheath!
Lucy. I could kill that disrespectful happy slut:—I gave him his life, and that creature is enjoying it.—Ungrateful Macheath!
AIR XLI. South-Sea Ballad.
My Love is all Madness and Folly,
My love is nothing but madness and foolishness,
Alone I lie,
I'm lying here alone,
Toss, tumble, and cry,
Throw, roll, and cry,
What a happy Creature is Polly!
What a happy creature Polly is!
Was e’er such a Wretch as I!
Was there ever such a wretch as I!
With rage I redden like Scarlet,
With anger, I turn as red as scarlet,
That my dear inconstant Varlet,
That my dear fickle rascal,
Stark blind to my Charms,
Totally oblivious to my charms,
Is lost in the Arms
Is lost in the embrace
Of that Jilt, that inveigling Harlot!
Of that manipulative liar, that seductive temptress!
Stark blind to my Charms,
Totally blind to my charms,
Is lost in the Arms
Is lost in the embrace
Of that Jilt, that inveigling Harlot!
Of that misleading temptress!
This, this my Resentment alarms.
This, this triggers my resentment.
Lockit. And so, after all this Mischief, I must stay here to be entertain’d with your Catterwauling, Mrs. Puss!—Out of my Sight, wanton Strumpet! you shall fast and mortify yourself into Reason, with now and then a little handsom Discipline to bring you to your Senses.—Go. Exit Lucy.
Lock it. So, after all this trouble, I have to stick around and listen to your screeching, Mrs. Puss!—Get out of my sight, shameless hussy! You’ll have to fast and torment yourself into some sense, with a bit of proper discipline to wake you up.—Go. Exit Lucy.
Peachum then intends to outwit me in this Affair; but I’ll be even with him.—The Dog is leaky in his Liquor, so I’ll ply him that way, get the Secret from him, and turn this Affair to my own Advantage.—Lions, Wolves, and Vultures don’t live together in Herds, Droves or Flocks.—Of all Animals of Prey, Man is the only sociable one. Every one of us preys upon his Neighbour, and yet we herd together.—Peachum is my Companion, my Friend.—According to the Custom of the World, indeed, he may quote thousands of Precedents for cheating me—And shall not I make use of the Privilege of Friendship to make him a Return.
Peachum thinks he can outsmart me in this situation, but I'll get back at him. The guy can't handle his drink, so I'll use that to my advantage, learn his secrets, and turn this to my benefit. Lions, wolves, and vultures don’t live in groups; they are solitary hunters. Among all predators, humans are the only ones who band together. Each of us takes advantage of our neighbors, yet we still hang out. Peachum is my companion, my friend. Sure, he could cite countless examples of how people cheat each other—so shouldn't I take advantage of our friendship to give him a taste of his own medicine?
AIR XLII. Packington’s Pound.
Thus Gamesters united in Friendship are found,
Thus, gamers united in friendship are found,
Though they know that their Industry all is a Cheat;
Though they know that their industry is all a scam;
They flock to their Prey at the Dice-Box’s Sound,
They gather around their target at the sound of the dice box,
And join to promote one another’s Deceit.
And come together to support each other's deceit.
But if by mishap
But if by chance
They fail of a Chap,
They lack a guy,
To keep in their Hands, they each other entrap.
To keep control, they trap each other.
Like Pikes, lank with Hunger, who miss of their Ends,
Like Pikes, thin from hunger, who miss their targets,
They bite their Companions, and prey on their Friends.
They hurt their companions and prey on their friends.
Now, Peachum, you and I, like honest Tradesmen, are to have a fair Trial which of us two can over-reach the other.
Now, Peachum, you and I, like honest businesspeople, are going to have a fair trial to see which one of us can outsmart the other.
SCENE II. A Gaming-House.
Macheath in a fine tarnish’d Coat, Ben Budge, Matt of the Mint.
Macheath in a fine tarnished coat, Ben Budge, Matt of the Mint.
Macheath. I am sorry, Gentlemen, the Road was so barren of Money. When my Friends are in Difficulties, I am always glad that my Fortune can be serviceable to them. Gives them Money. You see, Gentlemen, I am not a mere Court Friend, who professes every thing and will do nothing.
Mack the Knife. I apologize, gentlemen, the road was just lacking in cash. When my friends are in trouble, I'm always happy that my fortune can help them out. Gives them cash. You see, gentlemen, I'm not just a fair-weather friend who claims to be supportive but doesn’t actually do anything.
AIR XLIII. Lillibullero.
The Modes of the Court so common are grown,
The court's modes have become so common,
That a true Friend can hardly be met;
That a true friend is hard to find;
Friendship for Interest is but a Loan,
Friendship based on self-interest is just a loan,
Which they let out for what they can get.
Which they rent out for whatever they can get.
’Tis true, you find
It's true, you find
Some Friends so kind,
Some really nice friends,
Who will give you good Counsel themselves to defend.
Who will provide you with good advice to defend yourself?
In sorrowful Ditty,
In Sad Song,
They promise, they pity,
They promise, they empathize,
But shift for your Money, from Friend to Friend.
But transfer your money, from one friend to another.
But we, Gentlemen, have still Honour enough to break through the Corruptions of the World.—And while I can serve you, you may command me.
But we, gentlemen, still have enough honor to rise above the world's corruption. And as long as I can help you, you can count on me.
Ben. It grieves my Heart that so generous a Man should be involv’d in such Difficulties, as oblige him to live with such ill Company, and herd with Gamesters.
Ben. It breaks my heart that such a generous guy has fallen into such troubles that he has to hang out with such a bad crowd and associate with gamblers.
Matt. See the Partiality of Mankind!—One Man may steal a Horse, better than another look over a Hedge.—Of all Mechanics, of all servile Handicrafts-men, a Gamester is the vilest. But yet, as many of the Quality are of the Profession, he is admitted amongst the politest Company. I wonder we are not more respected.
Matt. Look at the bias of humanity! One man can steal a horse more skillfully than another can look over a fence. Among all trades and laborers, a gambler is the lowest. Yet, since many from the upper class are involved in this profession, he is accepted into the most refined social circles. I’m surprised we aren’t more respected.
Macheath. There will be deep Play to-night at Mary-bone, and consequently Money may be pick’d up upon the Road. Meet me there, and I’ll give you the Hint who is worth Setting.
Mack the Knife. There’s going to be a big game tonight at Mary-bone, so there’s a chance to earn some cash on the way. Meet me there, and I’ll let you know who’s worth targeting.
Matt. The Fellow with a brown Coat with a narrow Gold Binding, I am told, is never without Money.
Matt. The guy in the brown coat with the thin gold trim is said to always have cash on him.
Macheath. What do you mean, Matt?—Sure you will not think of meddling with him!—He’s a good honest kind of a Fellow, and one of us.
Mack the Knife. What do you mean, Matt?—You really aren’t thinking about getting involved with him, are you?—He’s a decent guy, and one of us.
Ben. To be sure, Sir, we will put ourselves under your Direction.
Ben. Of course, Sir, we will follow your guidance.
Macheath. Have an Eye upon the Money-Lenders.—A Rouleau, or two, would prove a pretty sort of an Expedition. I hate Extortion.
Mack the Knife. Keep an eye on the money lenders. A roll of cash or two would make for a nice adventure. I can’t stand being taken advantage of.
Matt. Those Rouleaus are very pretty Things.—I hate your Bank Bills.—There is such a Hazard in putting them off.
Matt. Those Rouleaus are really nice things. I can't stand your banknotes. There's so much risk in delaying them.
Macheath. There is a certain Man of Distinction, 66 who in his Time hath nick’d me out of a great deal of the Ready. He is in my Cash, Ben;—I’ll point him out to you this Evening, and you shall draw upon him for the Debt.—The Company are met; I hear the Dice-Box in the other Room. So, Gentlemen, your Servant. You’ll meet me at Mary-bone.
Mack the Knife. There's a certain distinguished man, 66 who has taken a good amount of money from me in the past. He owes me, Ben;—I'll introduce you to him this evening, and you can collect the debt from him. The others are here; I can hear the dice rolling in the other room. So, gentlemen, it's been a pleasure. You'll find me at Marybone.
SCENE III. Peachum’s Lock.
A Table with Wine, Brandy, Pipes and Tobacco.
A table with wine, brandy, pipes, and tobacco.
Peachum, Lockit.
Peachum, Lockit.
Lockit. The Coronation Account, Brother Peachum, is of so intricate a nature, that I believe it will never be settled.
Lock it. The Coronation Account, Brother Peachum, is so complicated that I doubt it will ever be resolved.
Peachum. It consists indeed of a great Variety of Articles.—It was worth to our People, in Fees of different kinds, above ten Instalments.—This is part of the Account, Brother, that lies open before us.
Peachum. It really includes a wide range of items.—It brought in over ten payments to our people, thanks to various fees.—This is part of the account, Brother, that we're looking at together.
Lockit. A Lady’s Tail of rich Brocade.—that, I see, is dispos’d of.
Lock it. A lady’s tale of rich brocade.—that, I see, is taken care of.
Peachum. To Mrs. Diana Trapes, the Tally-Woman, and she will make a good Hand on’t in Shoes and Slippers, to trick out young Ladies, upon their going into Keeping.—
Peachum. To Mrs. Diana Trapes, the Tally-Woman, and she will be great at making shoes and slippers to dress up young ladies when they start dating.
Lockit. But I don’t see any Article of the Jewels.
Lock it. But I don’t see any Article of the Jewels.
Peachum. Those are so well known that they must be sent abroad—You’ll find them enter’d under the Article of Exportation.—As for the Snuff-Boxes, Watches, Swords, &c.—I thought it best to enter them under their several Heads.
Peachum. Those are so well known that they need to be sent overseas—You'll find them listed under the Exportation category.—As for the snuff boxes, watches, swords, etc.—I thought it was best to list them under their individual categories.
Lockit. Seven and twenty Women’s Pockets complete; with the several things therein contain’d; all Seal’d, Number’d, and Enter’d.
Lock it. Twenty-seven women's pockets are finished; with all the various items contained in them; all sealed, numbered, and recorded.
Peachum. But, Brother, it is impossible for us now to enter upon this Affair,—We should have the whole 68 Day before us.—Besides, the Account of the last Half Year’s Plate is in a Book by itself, which lies at the other Office.
Peachum. But, Brother, it’s impossible for us to get started on this right now—we’d need the entire 68 Day to tackle it. Plus, the records for the last six months of the plates are in a separate book that’s at the other office.
Lockit. Bring us then more Liquor—To-day shall be for Pleasure—To-morrow for Business—Ah, Brother, those Daughters of ours are two slippery Hussies—Keep a watchful Eye upon Polly, and Macheath in a Day or two shall be our own again.
Lock it. Bring us more drinks then—Today is for having fun—Tomorrow is for work—Ah, Brother, those daughters of ours are a couple of tricky girls—Keep a close watch on Polly, and Macheath will be ours again in a day or two.
AIR XLIV. Down in the North Country, &c.
Lockit.
Lock it.
What Gudgeons are we Men!
What kind of Gudgeons are we!
Ev’ry Woman’s easy Prey.
Every Woman’s Easy Prey.
Though we have felt the Hook, agen
Though we have felt the Hook again
We bite and they betray.
We attack and they betray.
The Bird that hath been trapt,
The bird that has been trapped,
When he hears his calling Mate,
When he hears his calling, Mate,
To her he flies, again he’s clapt
To her he rushes, once again he's caught.
Within the wiry Grate.
In the thin Grate.
Peachum. But what signifies catching the Bird, if your Daughter Lucy will set open the Door of the Cage?
Peachum. But what’s the point of catching the Bird if your Daughter Lucy will just open the Door of the Cage?
Lockit. If men were answerable for the Follies and Frailties of their Wives and Daughters, no Friends could keep a good Correspondence together for two Days.—This in unkind of you, Brother; for among good Friends, what they say or do goes for nothing.
Lock it. If guys had to take responsibility for the silly mistakes and weaknesses of their wives and daughters, no friends would stay on good terms for even two days. — It’s unkind of you, Brother; because among good friends, what they say or do doesn’t matter.
Enter a Servant.
Enter a Servant.
Servant. Sir, here’s Mrs. Diana Trapes wants to speak with you.
Helper. Sir, Mrs. Diana Trapes is here to speak with you.
Peachum. Shall we admit her, Brother Lockit?
Peachum. Should we let her in, Brother Lockit?
Lockit. By all means,—She’s a good Customer, and a fine-spoken Woman—And a Woman who drinks and talks so freely, will enliven the Conversation.
Lock it. Absolutely,—She’s a great customer and speaks very nicely—And a woman who drinks and chats so openly will make the conversation more lively.
Peachum. Desire her to walk in. Exit Servant.
Peachum. Ask her to come in. Exit Assistant.
Peachum, Lockit, Mrs. Trapes.
Peachum, Lockit, Mrs. Trapes.
Peachum. Dear Mrs. Dye, your Servant—One may know by your Kiss, that your Ginn is excellent.
Peachum. Dear Mrs. Dye, your servant—You can tell by your kiss that your gin is really good.
Mrs. Trapes. I was always very curious in my Liquors.
Mrs. Trapes. I was always very curious about my drinks.
Lockit. There is no perfum’d Breath like it—I have been long acquainted with the Flavour of those Lips—Han’t I, Mrs. Dye.
Lock it. There’s no scented breath like it—I’ve known the taste of those lips for a long time—haven’t I, Mrs. Dye?
Mrs. Trapes. Fill it up—I take as large Draughts of Liquor, as I did of Love.—I hate a Flincher in either.
Mrs. Trapes. Fill it up—I drink as much liquor as I did love. I can’t stand someone who hesitates in either.
AIR XLV. A Shepherd kept Sheep, &c.
In the Days of my Youth I could bill like a Dove, fa, la, la, &c.
In my younger days, I could sing like a dove, fa, la, la, &c.
Like a Sparrow at all times was ready for Love, fa, la, la, &c.
Like a sparrow, always ready for love, fa, la, la, &c.
The Life of all Mortals in Kissing should pass,
The lives of all mortals in kissing should go on,
Lip to Lip while we’re young—then the Lip to the Glass, fa, la, &c.
Lip to lip while we're young—then the lip to the glass, fa, la, &c.
But now, Mr. Peachum, to our Business.—If you have Blacks of any kind, brought in of late; Mantoes—Velvet Scarfs—Petticoats—Let it be what it will—I am your Chap—for all my Ladies are very fond of Mourning.
But now, Mr. Peachum, let’s discuss business. If you have any kind of black items that you’ve received recently—mantles, velvet scarves, petticoats—whatever it is—I’m your guy, because all my ladies really love wearing mourning attire.
Peachum. Why, look ye, Mrs. Dye—you deal so hard with us, that we can afford to give the Gentlemen, who venture their Lives for the Goods, little or nothing.
Peachum. Well, you see, Mrs. Dye—you’re so tough on us that we can barely give the gentlemen, who risk their lives for the goods, anything at all.
Mrs. Trapes. The hard Times oblige me to go very near in my Dealing.—To be sure, of late Years I have been a great Sufferer by the Parliament.—Three thousand Pounds would hardly make me amends.—The Act for destroying the Mint, was a severe Cut upon our Business—’Till then, if a Customer stept out of the way—we knew where to have her—No doubt you know Mrs. Coaxer—there’s a Wench now (’till to-day) with a good Suit of Clothes of mine upon her Back, and I could never set Eyes upon her for three Months together.—Since the Act too against Imprisonment for small Sums, my Loss there too hath been very considerable, and it must be so, when a Lady can borrow a handsom Petticoat, or a clean Gown, and I not have the least Hank upon her! And, o’ my Conscience, now-a-days most Ladies take a Delight in cheating, when they can do it with Safety.
Mrs. Trapes. The hard times force me to keep my dealings very tight. To be honest, I’ve really suffered because of Parliament in recent years. Three thousand pounds wouldn’t even cover my losses. The law that shut down the Mint hit our business hard. Before that, if a customer went off the radar, we knew where to find her. You definitely know Mrs. Coaxer—there’s a girl right now (up until today) wearing a nice outfit of mine, and I haven’t seen her for three months. Since the law against imprisoning people for small debts, my losses have been significant, too, especially when a lady can borrow a nice petticoat or a clean dress, and I have no leverage over her! And honestly, it seems like most ladies nowadays enjoy cheating, especially when they think they can get away with it.
Peachum. Madam, you had a handsom Gold Watch of us ’tother Day for seven Guineas.—Considering we must have our Profit.—To a Gentleman upon the Road, a Gold Watch will be scarce worth the taking.
Peachum. Madam, you had a nice gold watch from us the other day for seven guineas. Considering we need to make our profit, a gold watch is hardly worth taking for a gentleman on the road.
Mrs. Trapes. Consider, Mr. Peachum, that Watch was remarkable, and not of very safe Sale.—If you have any black Velvet Scarfs—they are a handsom Winter-wear, and take with most Gentlemen who deal with my Customers.—’Tis I that put the Ladies upon a good Foot. ’Tis not Youth or Beauty that fixes their Price. 71 The Gentlemen always pay according to their Dress, from half a Crown to two Guineas; and yet those Hussies make nothing of bilking of me.—Then too, allowing for Accidents.—I have eleven fine Customers now down under the Surgeon’s Hands—what with Fees and other Expenses, there are great Goings-out, and no Comings in, and not a Farthing to pay for at least a Month’s Clothing.—We run great Risques—great Risques indeed.
Ms. Trapes. Consider, Mr. Peachum, that Watch was notable, but not very reliable for selling.—If you have any black velvet scarves—they're a nice winter accessory and are popular with many gentlemen who shop with my clients.—It’s me who helps the ladies make a good impression. It’s not youth or beauty that determines their price. 71 The gentlemen always pay based on their clothing, from two and sixpence to two guineas; and yet those girls have no problem swindling me.—Plus, considering accidents.—I have eleven fine clients currently under the surgeon’s care—what with fees and other expenses, there are significant outgoings, and no income, and not a penny to cover at least a month’s worth of clothing.—We take on great risks—really great risks, indeed.
Peachum. As I remember, you said something just now of Mrs. Coaxer.
Peachum. If I recall correctly, you mentioned something just now about Mrs. Coaxer.
Mrs. Trapes. Yes, Sir.—To be sure I stript her of a Suit of my own Clothes about two Hours ago; and have left her as she should be, in her Shift, with a Lover of hers at my House. She call’d him up Stairs, as he was going to Mary-bone in a Hackney Coach.—And I hope, for her own sake and mine, she will persuade the Captain to redeem her, for the Captain is very generous to the Ladies.
Ms. Trapes. Yes, Sir. I took off a suit of my own clothes from her about two hours ago, and I’ve left her as she should be, in her shift, with one of her lovers at my house. She called him upstairs as he was getting into a hackney carriage to go to Marylebone. I hope, for her own sake and mine, she manages to persuade the Captain to help her out, because the Captain is very generous to the ladies.
Lockit. What Captain?
Lockit. What is it, Captain?
Mrs. Trapes. He thought I did not know him—An intimate Acquaintance of yours, Mr. Peachum—Only Captain Macheath—as fine as a Lord.
Ms. Trapes. He thought I didn't know him—An old friend of yours, Mr. Peachum—Only Captain Macheath—as fancy as a lord.
Peachum. To-morrow, dear Mrs. Dye, you shall set your own Price upon any of the Goods you like—We have at least half a Dozen Velvet Scarfs, and all at your Service. Will you give me leave to make you a Present of this Suit of Night-clothes for your own wearing?—But are you sure it is Captain Macheath.
Peachum. Tomorrow, dear Mrs. Dye, you can set your own price on any of the goods you like—we have at least half a dozen velvet scarves, and they’re all at your service. May I give you this set of nightclothes as a gift for you to wear? But are you sure it’s Captain Macheath.
Mrs. Trapes. Though he thinks I have forgot him; no body knows him better. I have taken a great deal of the Captain’s Money in my Time at second-hand, for he always lov’d to have his Ladies well drest.
Ms. Trapes. Even though he believes I've forgotten him, no one knows him better than I do. I've taken quite a bit of the Captain's money in my time indirectly, since he always loved to see his ladies well-dressed.
Peachum. Mr. Lockit and I have a little Business with 72 the Captain;—You understand me—and we will satisfy you for Mrs. Coaxer’s Debt.
Peachum. Mr. Lockit and I need to discuss something with the Captain;—You get what I mean—and we'll make sure you’re paid for Mrs. Coaxer’s Debt.
Lockit. Depend upon it—we will deal like Men of Honour.
Lock it. You can count on it—we'll handle this like honorable men.
Mrs. Trapes. I don’t enquire after your Affairs—so whatever happens, I wash my Hands on’t—It hath always been my Maxim, that one Friend should assist another—But if you please—I’ll take one of the Scarfs home with me. ’Tis always good to have something in Hand.
Ms. Trapes. I don’t ask about your business—so whatever happens, I’m not involved—It’s always been my principle that friends should help each other—But if you don’t mind—I’ll take one of the scarves home with me. It’s always good to have something on hand.
SCENE IV. Newgate.
Lucy. Jealousy, Rage, Love and Fear are at once tearing me to pieces, How I am weather-beaten and shatter’d with Distresses!
Lucy. Jealousy, anger, love, and fear are simultaneously tearing me apart. I feel battered and shattered by my troubles!
AIR XLVI. One Evening, having lost my Way, &c.
I’m like a Skiff on the Ocean tost,
I’m like a small boat tossed on the ocean,
Now high, now low, with each Billow born,
Now up high, now down low, with every wave born,
With her Rudder broke, and her Anchor lost,
With her rudder broken and her anchor lost,
Deserted and all forlorn.
Abandoned and all alone.
While thus I lie rolling and tossing all Night,
While I lie here tossing and turning all night,
That Polly lies sporting on Seas of Delight!
That Polly is having fun on Seas of Delight!
Revenge, Revenge, Revenge,
Revenge, Revenge, Revenge.
Shall appease my restless Spirit.
Will soothe my restless spirit.
I have the Rats-bane ready.—I run no Risque; for I can lay her Death upon the Ginn, and so many die of that naturally that I shall never be call’d in question.—But say, I were to be hang’d.—I never could be hang’d for any thing that would give me greater Comfort, than the poisoning that Slut.
I have the rat poison ready. I’m not taking any risks; I can blame her death on the gin, and so many people die from that naturally that I’ll never be questioned. But say I get hanged. I could never be hanged for anything that would give me more comfort than poisoning that slut.
Enter Filch.
Enter Filch.
Filch. Madam, here’s Miss Polly come to wait upon you.
Steal. Ma'am, here's Miss Polly here to see you.
Lucy. Show her in.
Lucy. Let her in.
Enter Polly.
Enter Polly.
Dear Madam, your Servant.—I hope you will pardon my Passion, when I was so happy to see you last.—I was so over-run with the Spleen, that I was perfectly out of myself. And really when one hath the Spleen, every thing is to be excus’d by a Friend.
Dear Madam, your servant.—I hope you can forgive my excitement when I was so thrilled to see you last. I felt overwhelmed with despair that I was completely beside myself. And honestly, when someone is feeling low, everything can be forgiven by a friend.
AIR XLVII. Now Roger, I’ll tell thee because thou ’rt my Son.
When a Wife’s in her Pout,
When a Wife’s in her Pout,
(As she’s sometimes, no doubt;)
(As she's sometimes, no doubt;)
The good Husband as meek as a Lamb,
The good husband is as gentle as a lamb,
Her Vapours to still,
Her vapors to still,
First grants her her Will,
First grants her the will,
And the quieting Draught is a Dram. Poor Man!
And the calming drink is a shot. Poor guy!
And the quieting Draught is a Dram.
And the calming potion is a small amount.
—I wish all our Quarrels might have so comfortable a Reconciliation.
—I wish all our arguments could end so smoothly.
Polly. I have no Excuse for my own Behaviour, Madam, but my Misfortunes.—And really, Madam, I suffer too upon your Account.
Polly. I have no excuse for my behavior, ma'am, except for my misfortunes. And honestly, ma'am, I suffer too because of you.
Lucy. But, Miss Polly—in the way of Friendship, will you give me leave to propose a Glass of Cordial to you?
Lucy. But, Miss Polly—as a friend, could I ask if you'd let me offer you a drink of cordial?
Polly. Strong-Waters are apt to give me the Head-ache—I hope, Madam, you will excuse me.
Polly. Strong drinks tend to give me a headache—I hope you'll excuse me, ma'am.
Lucy. Not the greatest Lady in the Land could have better in her Closet, for her own private drinking.—You seem mighty low in Spirits, my Dear.
Lucy. Not even the most esteemed lady in the land could have anything better in her closet for her own private drinking. —You seem really down, my dear.
Polly. I am sorry, Madam, my Health will not allow me to accept of your Offer.—I should not have left you in the rude manner I did when we met last, Madam, had not my Papa haul’d me away so unexpectedly—I was indeed somewhat provok’d, and perhaps might use some Expressions that were disrespectful.—But really, Madam, the Captain treated me with so much Contempt and Cruelty, that I deserv’d your Pity, rather than your Resentment.
Polly. I'm sorry, ma'am, but my health won't let me accept your offer. I wouldn't have left you so abruptly when we last met if my dad hadn't pulled me away so suddenly. I was honestly a bit upset and might have said some disrespectful things. But truly, ma'am, the Captain treated me with such contempt and cruelty that I deserved your sympathy, not your anger.
Lucy. But since his Escape, no doubt all Matters are made up again.—Ah Polly! Polly! ’tis I am the unhappy Wife; and he loves you as if you were only his Mistress.
Lucy. But ever since he got away, I’m sure everything has been sorted out again.—Ah Polly! Polly! I’m the miserable wife, and he loves you as if you were just his mistress.
Polly. Sure, Madam, you cannot think me so happy as to be the object of your Jealousy.—A Man is always afraid of a Woman who loves him too well—so that I must expect to be neglected and avoided.
Polly. Of course, Madam, you can't think I'm so fortunate as to be the cause of your jealousy. A man is always wary of a woman who loves him too much, so I have to expect to be overlooked and kept at a distance.
Lucy. Then our Cases, my dear Polly, are exactly alike. Both of us indeed have been too fond.
Lucy. Then our situations, my dear Polly, are exactly the same. Both of us have definitely been too attached.
AIR XLVIII. O Bessy Bell.
Polly.
Polly.
A Curse attend that Woman’s Love,
A curse follows that woman's love,
Who always would be pleasing.
Who would always be pleasing.
Lucy.
Lucy.
The Pertness of the billing Dove,
The pushiness of the billing dove,
Like Tickling, is but teazing.
Like tickling, it's just teasing.
Polly.
Polly.
What then in Love can Woman do:
What can a woman do in Love then?
Lucy.
Lucy.
If we grow fond they shun us.
If we get close, they push us away.
Polly.
Polly.
And when we fly them, they pursue:
And when we fly them, they chase:
Lucy.
Lucy.
But leave us when they’ve won us.
But let us go when they’ve won us over.
Lucy. Love is so very whimsical in both Sexes, that it is impossible to be lasting.—But my Heart is particular, and contradicts my own Observation.
Lucy. Love is so unpredictable in both men and women that it's hard for it to last. — But my heart is different, and it goes against what I've seen.
Polly. But really, Mistress Lucy, by his last Behaviour, I think I ought to envy you.—When I was forc’d from 77 him, he did not shew the least Tenderness.—But perhaps, he hath a Heart not capable of it.
Polly. But honestly, Mistress Lucy, based on his recent behavior, I think I should be jealous of you. When I was taken away from him, he didn’t show any affection at all. But maybe he just doesn’t have the capacity for it.
AIR XLIX. Would Fate to me Belinda give.
Among the Men, Coquettes we find,
Among the men, we find flirtatious individuals,
Who court by turns all Woman-kind;
Who court all women in turns;
And we grant all their Hearts desir’d,
And we give all their hearts what they long for,
When they are flatter’d, and admir’d.
When they are praised and admired.
The Coquettes of both Sexes are Self-lovers, and that is a Love no other whatever can dispossess. I hear, my dear Lucy, our Husband is one of those.
The Coquettes of both genders are self-lovers, and that’s a love no one else can take away. I hear, my dear Lucy, that our husband is one of those.
Lucy. Away with these melancholy Reflections,—indeed, my dear Polly, we are both of us a Cup too low—Let me prevail upon you to accept of my Offer.
Lucy. Enough of these sad thoughts—honestly, my dear Polly, we’re both feeling a bit down—let me convince you to take my offer.
AIR L. Come, sweet Lass.
Come, sweet Lass,
Come, sweet girl,
Let’s banish Sorrow
Let's get rid of sadness.
’Till To-morrow;
Until tomorrow;
Come, sweet Lass,
Come here, dear girl,
Let’s take a chirping Glass.
Let’s take a chirping glass.
Wine can clear
Wine can refresh
The Vapours of Despair
The Fumes of Despair
And make us light as Air;
And make us light as air;
Then drink, and banish Care.
Then drink and forget your worries.
I can’t bear, Child, to see you in such low Spirits.—And I must persuade you to what I know will do you good. Aside. I shall now soon be even with the hypocrytical Strumpet. Exit.
I can’t stand to see you feeling so down, Child. I have to convince you to do something that I know will help. Aside. I will soon settle the score with that hypocrytical Strumpet. Leave.
Polly. All this Wheedling of Lucy cannot be for nothing.—At this time too! when I know she hates me!—The Dissembling of a Woman is always the Forerunner of Mischief.—By pouring Strong-Waters down my Throat, she thinks to pump some Secrets out of me,—I’ll be upon my Guard, and won’t taste a Drop of her Liquor, I’m resolv’d.
Polly. All this flattering of Lucy can't be for nothing. —Especially now! when I know she hates me! —A woman’s deceit is always a sign of trouble. —By forcing strong drinks down my throat, she thinks she can extract some secrets from me — I’ll stay alert and won’t touch a drop of her liquor, that’s for sure.
Re-enter Lucy, with Strong-Waters.
Re-enter Lucy with Strong-Waters.
Lucy. Come, Miss Polly.
Lucy. Come on, Miss Polly.
Polly. Indeed, Child, you have given yourself trouble to no purpose.—You must, my Dear, excuse me.
Polly. Honestly, Kid, you've gone through all this effort for nothing.—You have to forgive me, my Dear.
Lucy. Really, Miss Polly, you are as squeamishly affected about taking a Cup of Strong-Waters as a Lady before Company. I vow, Polly, I shall take it monstrously ill if you refuse me.—Brandy and Men (though Women love them ever so well) are always taken by us with some Reluctance—unless ’tis in private.
Lucy. Honestly, Miss Polly, you’re as overly concerned about having a drink as a lady in front of guests. I swear, Polly, I’ll be really upset if you turn me down. —Brandy and men (even though women seem to love them) are always approached with some hesitation—unless it’s in private.
Polly. I protest, Madam, it goes against me.—What 79 do I see! Macheath again in Custody!—Now every Glimm’ring of Happiness is lost.
Polly. I object, Ma'am, it really bothers me. —What 79 do I see! Macheath is in custody again! —Now every hope of happiness is gone.
Drops the Glass of Liquor on the Ground.
Drops the glass of liquor on the ground.
Lucy. Since things are thus, I’m glad the Wench hath escap’d: for by this Event, ’tis plain, she was not happy enough to deserve to be poison’d.
Lucy. Since things are this way, I'm relieved the girl got away; clearly, she wasn't happy enough to deserve being poisoned.
Enter Lockit, Macheath, Peachum.
Enter Lockit, Macheath, Peachum.
Lockit. Set your Heart to rest, Captain.—You have neither the Chance of Love or Money for another Escape,—for you are order’d to be call’d down upon your Trial immediately.
Lock it. Calm down, Captain. You have no chance for love or money to escape again, as you are ordered to be brought down for your trial immediately.
Peachum. Away, Hussies!—This is not a Time for a Man to be hamper’d with his Wives.—You see, the Gentleman is in Chains already.
Peachum. Get lost, ladies!—This isn't a time for a man to be tied down by his wives.—You see, the gentleman is already in chains.
Lucy. O Husband, Husband, my Heart long’d to see thee; but to see thee thus distracts me?
Lucy. Oh, Husband, Husband, my heart has longed to see you; but seeing you like this is making me anxious?
Polly. Will not my dear Husband look upon his Polly? Why hadst thou not flown to me for Protection? with me thou hadst been safe.
Polly. Won't my dear husband look at his Polly? Why didn't you come to me for protection? You would have been safe with me.
AIR LI. The last time I went o’er the Moor.
Polly.
Polly.
Hither, dear Husband, turn your Eyes.
Honey, look over here.
Lucy.
Lucy.
Bestow one Glance to cheer me.
Bestow one glance to cheer me.
Polly.
Polly.
Think with that Look, thy Polly dies.
Think about that. Your Polly is dying.
Lucy.
Lucy.
O shun me not—but hear me.
O don't turn away from me—but listen.
Polly.
Polly.
’Tis Polly sues.
It’s Polly sues.
Lucy.
Lucy
’Tis Polly sues. ’Tis Lucy speaks.
Polly sues. Lucy speaks.
Polly.
Polly.
Is thus true Love requited?
Is true love really returned?
Lucy.
Lucy.
My Heart is bursting.
My heart is bursting.
Polly.
Polly.
My Heart is bursting. Mine too breaks.
I'm so overwhelmed with feelings. Mine also breaks.
Lucy.
Lucy.
Must I
Do I have to
Polly.
Polly.
Must I Must I be slighted?
Must I be disrespected?
Macheath. What would you have me say, Ladies?—You see this affair will soon be at an end, without my disobliging either of you.
Mack the Knife. What do you want me to say, Ladies?—You can see that this situation will be resolved soon, without me upsetting either of you.
Peachum. But the settling this Point, Captain, might prevent a Law-Suit between your two Widows.
Peachum. But figuring this out, Captain, could help avoid a lawsuit between your two widows.
AIR LII. Tom Tinker’s my true Love.
Macheath.
Macheath.
Which way shall I turn me—How can I decide?
Which way should I go—How can I make a choice?
Wives, the Day of our Death, are as fond as a Bride.
Wives, on the Day of our Death, are as affectionate as a Bride.
One Wife is too much for most Husbands to hear,
One wife is too much for most husbands to handle,
But two at a time there’s no mortal can bear.
But no one can handle two at a time.
This way, and that way, and which way I will,
This way, that way, and whichever way I choose,
What would comfort the one, t’ other Wife would take ill.
What comforts one would upset the other wife.
Polly. But if his own Misfortunes have made him 81 insensible to mine—A Father sure will be more compassionate—Dear, dear Sir, sink the material Evidence, and bring him off at his Trial—Polly upon her Knees begs it of you.
Polly. But if his own misfortunes have made him indifferent to mine—A father should be more compassionate—Dear, dear Sir, forget the physical evidence, and help him out at his trial—Polly is on her knees begging you.
AIR LIII. I am a poor Shepherd undone.
When my Heroe in Court appears,
When my Hero in Court shows up,
And stands arraign’d for his Life;
And is charged with his life;
Then think of poor Polly’s Tears;
Then think of poor Polly's tears;
For Ah! poor Polly’s his Wife.
For Ah! poor Polly's wife.
Like the Sailor he holds up his hand,
Like the sailor, he raises his hand,
Distrest on the dashing Wave.
Distress on the crashing wave.
To die a dry Death at Land,
To die a slow death on land,
Is as bad as a watery Grave.
Is as bad as a watery grave.
And alas, poor Polly!
And sadly, poor Polly!
Alack, and well-a-day!
Alas, what a day!
Before I was in Love,
Before I fell in love,
Oh! every Month was May.
Oh! every month was May.
Lucy. If Peachum’s Heart is harden’d; sure you, Sir, will have more Compassion on a Daughter.—I know the Evidence is in your Power.—How then can you be a Tyrant to me? Kneeling.
Lucy. If Peachum’s Heart is hardened, surely, Sir, you'll have more compassion for a daughter.—I know you have the evidence in your power.—So how can you treat me so cruelly? Kneeling down.
AIR LIV. Ianthe the lovely, &c.
When he holds up his Hand arraign’d for his Life,
When he raises his hand accused of his life,
O think of your Daughter, and think I’m his Wife!
O think of your Daughter, and think I'm his Wife!
What are Canons, or Bombs, or clashing of Swords?
What are cannons, or bombs, or the clashing of swords?
For Death is more certain by Witnesses Words.
For Death is more certain by Witnesses' words.
Then nail up their Lips; that dread Thunder allay;
Then seal their lips; calm that terrifying thunder;
And each Month of my Life will hereafter be May.
And from now on, every month of my life will be May.
Lockit. Macheath’s Time is come, Lucy.—We know our own Affairs, therefore let us have no more Whimpering or Whining.
Lock it. Macheath’s time has come, Lucy. We understand our own situations, so let's stop all the whining and crying.
AIR LV. A Cobler there was, &c.
Ourselves, like the Great, to secure a Retreat,
Ourselves, like the Great, to ensure a getaway,
When Matters require it, must give up our Gang:
When it becomes necessary, we must let go of our group:
And good reason why,
And good reason for that,
Or, instead of the Fry,
Or, instead of the Fry,
Ev’n Peachum and I.
Even Peachum and I.
Like poor petty Rascals, might hang, hang;
Like poor little troublemakers, might hang, hang;
Like poor petty Rascals, might hang.
Like poor petty criminals, might hang.
Peachum. Set your Heart at rest, Polly.—Your Husband is to die to-day.—Therefore if you are not already provided, ’tis high time to look about for another. There’s Comfort for you, you Slut.
Peachum. Calm down, Polly.—Your husband is going to die today.—So if you haven't found someone else yet, it's definitely time to start looking. There's some comfort for you, you shameless girl.
Lockit. We are ready, Sir, to conduct you to the Old Baily.
Lock it. We’re all set, Sir, to take you to the Old Bailey.
AIR LVI. Bonny Dundee.
Macheath.
Macheath.
The Charge is prepar’d; the Lawyers are met,
The charge is ready; the lawyers are gathered,
The Judges all rang’d (a terrible Show!)
The Judges were all gathered (a terrifying sight!)
I go, undismay’d.—For Death is a Debt,
I go, unafraid. — For Death is a Debt,
A Debt on Demand.—So take what I owe.
A Debt on Demand.—So take what I owe.
Then farewell, my Love—Dear Charmers, adieu.
Then goodbye, my love—dear charmers, see you later.
Contented I die—’Tis the better for you.
Content, I die—It's better for you.
Here ends all Disputes the rest of our Lives,
Here ends all arguments for the rest of our lives,
For this way at once I please all my Wives.
For this reason, I make all my wives happy at the same time.
Now, Gentlemen, I am ready to attend you.
Now, gentlemen, I'm ready to assist you.
Exeunt Macheath, Lockit, and Peachum.
Exit Macheath, Lockit, and Peachum.
Enter Filch.
Enter Filch.
Polly. Follow them, Filch, to the Court. And when the Trial is over, bring me a particular Account of his Behaviour, and of every thing that happen’d—You’ll find me here with Miss Lucy. Exit Filch. But why is all this Musick?
Polly. Follow them, Filch, to the court. And when the trial is done, give me a detailed report of his behavior and everything that happened—I'll be here with Miss Lucy. Exit Filch. But why is all this music playing?
Lucy. The Prisoners, whose Trials are put off ’till next Session, are diverting themselves.
Lucy. The Prisoners, whose Trials are delayed until the next session, are having some fun.
Polly. Sure there is nothing so charming as Music! I’m fond of it to Distraction!—But alas!—now, all Mirth seems an Insult upon my Affliction.—Let us retire, my dear Lucy, and indulge our Sorrows.—The noisy Crew, you see, are coming upon us.
Polly. There’s nothing as wonderful as music! I love it to the point of obsession!—But sadly!—now, all the joy seems like an insult to my suffering.—Let’s go, my dear Lucy, and embrace our sadness.—The loud group, as you can see, is approaching us.
Exeunt.
Exit.
A Dance of Prisoners in Chains, &c.
A Dance of Prisoners in Chains, &c.
SCENE V. The Condemn’d Hold.
Macheath, in a melancholy Posture.
Macheath, in a sad pose.
AIR LVII. Happy Groves.
O cruel, cruel, cruel Case!
O cruel, cruel Case!
Must I suffer this Disgrace?
Must I endure this disgrace?
AIR LVIII. Of all the Girls that are so smart.
Of all the Friends in time of Grief,
Of all the friends during times of grief,
When threatning Death looks grimmer,
When threatening Death looks worse,
Not one so sure can bring Relief,
Not one so certain can provide comfort,
As this best Friend, a Brimmer. Drinks.
As this best friend, a Brimmer. Beverages.
AIR LIX. Britons strike home.
Since I must swing,—I scorn, I scorn to wince or whine. Rises.
Since I have to face this,—I refuse, I refuse to cringe or complain. Rising.
AIR LX. Chevy Chase.
But now again my Spirits sink;
But now once more my spirits are sinking;
I’ll raise them high with Wine. Drinks a Glass of Wine.
I’ll hold them up high with wine. Has a glass of wine.
AIR LXI. To old Sir Simon the King.
But Valour the stronger grows,
But Valour grows stronger,
The stronger Liquor we’er drinking;
The stronger liquor we're drinking;
And how can we feel our Woes,
And how can we feel our troubles,
When we’ve lost the Trouble of Thinking? Drinks.
When have we stopped worrying about thinking? Beverages.
AIR LXII. Joy to Great Cæsar.
If thus—A Man can die
If so—A Man can die
Much bolder with Brandy. Pours out a Bumper of Brandy.
Much bolder with Brandy. Pours a glass of brandy.
AIR LXIII. There was an old Woman.
So I drink off this Bumper.—And now I can stand the Test,
So I drink from this glass. And now I can handle the challenge,
And my Comrades shall see, that I die as brave as the Best. Drinks.
And my friends will see that I die as bravely as the best of them. Beverages.
AIR LXIV. Did you ever hear of a gallant Sailor.
But can I leave my pretty Hussies,
But can I leave my beautiful girls,
Without one Tear, or tender Sigh?
Without a single tear or gentle sigh?
AIR LXV. Why are mine Eyes still flowing.
Their Eyes, their Lips, their Busses
Their Eyes, their Lips, their Buses
Recall my Love,—Ah must I die!
Recall my love—Ah, must I die!
AIR LXVI. Green Sleeves.
Since Laws were made for ev’ry Degree,
Since laws were made for every degree,
To curb Vice in others, as well as me,
To control wrongdoing in others, as well as in myself,
I wonder we han’t better Company,
I wonder why we don't have better company.
Upon Tyburn Tree!
At Tyburn Tree!
But Gold from Law can take out the Sting;
But law can extract the sting from gold;
And if rich Men like us were to swing,
And if wealthy men like us were to sway,
’Twou’d thin the Land, such Numbers to string
’Twould thin the land, having so many to gather
Upon Tyburn Tree!
At Tyburn Tree!
Jailor. Some Friends of yours, Captain, desire to be admitted—I leave you together.
Jailer. Some of your friends, Captain, want to see you—I’ll leave you two alone.
Enter Ben Budge, Matt of the Mint.
Enter Ben Budge, Matt of the Mint.
Macheath. For my having broke Prison, you see, Gentlemen, I am order’d immediate Execution.—The Sheriff’s Officers, I believe, are now at the Door.—That Jemmy Twitcher should peach me, I own surpris’d me!—’Tis a plain Proof that the World is all alike, and that even our Gang can no more trust one another than other People. Therefore, I beg you, Gentlemen, look well to yourselves, for in all probability you may live some Months longer.
Mack the Knife. Since I broke out of prison, it looks like, gentlemen, I'm facing immediate execution. I believe the sheriff's officers are at the door now. I have to admit, it really surprised me that Jemmy Twitcher betrayed me! It’s clear proof that the world is all the same, and that even our gang can’t trust each other any more than anyone else. So, I urge you, gentlemen, take care of yourselves, because there’s a good chance you might live a few more months.
Matt. We are heartily sorry, Captain, for your Misfortune.—But ’tis what we must all come to.
Matt. We're truly sorry, Captain, for what happened to you. But it's something we all have to face eventually.
Macheath. Peachum and Lockit, you know, are infamous Scoundrels. Their Lives are as much in your Power, as yours are in theirs.—Remember your dying Friend!—’Tis my last Request.—Bring those Villains to the Gallows before you, and I am satisfied.
Mack the Knife. Peachum and Lockit, you know, are notorious crooks. Your lives are just as much in their hands as theirs are in yours.—Think of your dying friend!—This is my final wish.—Take those villains to the gallows before you, and I’ll be content.
Matt. We’ll do’t.
Matt. We'll do it.
Jailor. Miss Polly and Miss Lucy intreat a Word with you.
Correctional officer. Miss Polly and Miss Lucy would like to speak with you.
Macheath. Gentlemen, adieu.
Macheath. Goodbye, gentlemen.
Exeunt Ben Budge and Matt.
Exit Ben Budge and Matt.
Enter Lucy and Polly.
Enter Lucy and Polly.
Macheath. My dear Lucy—My dear Polly—Whatsoever hath pass’d between us is now at an end—If you are fond of marrying again, the best Advice I can give you, is to Ship yourselves off for the West-Indies, where you’ll have a fair Chance of getting a Husband a-piece, or by good Luck, two or three, as you like best.
Macheath. My dear Lucy—My dear Polly—Whatever happened between us is now over—If you're eager to get married again, the best advice I can give you is to set sail for the West Indies, where you’ll have a good chance of finding a husband each, or if you're lucky, two or three, whatever you prefer.
Polly. How can I support this Sight!
Polly. How can I help with this view!
Lucy. There is nothing moves one so much as a great Man in Distress.
Lucy. Nothing affects you quite like seeing a great man in trouble.
AIR LXVII. All you that must take a Leap, &c.
Lucy.
Lucy.
Would I might be hang’d!
Would I be hanged!
Polly.
Polly.
Would I might be hang’d! And I would so too!
I can't believe this! And I feel the same way!
Lucy.
Lucy.
To be hang’d with you.
To be hanged with you.
Polly.
Polly.
To be hang’d with you. My Dear, with you.
To be hung with you. My dear, with you.
Macheath.
Macheath.
O leave me to Thought! I fear! I doubt!
O leave me to thought! I fear! I doubt!
I tremble! I droop!—See, my Courage is out.
I’m shaking! I’m falling apart!—Look, I’ve run out of courage.
Turns up the empty Bottle.
Tilts the empty bottle.
Polly.
Polly.
No Token of Love?
No Sign of Love?
Macheath.
Mack the Knife.
No Token of Love? See, my Courage is out.
No Sign of Love? Look, my courage is gone.
Turns up the empty Pot.
Turns up the empty pot.
Lucy.
Lucy.
No Token of Love?
No Sign of Love?
Polly.
Polly.
No Token of Love? Adieu.
No Token of Love? Goodbye.
Lucy.
Lucy.
No Token of Love? Adieu. Farewell.
No Love Token? Goodbye.
Macheath.
Mack the Knife.
But hark! I hear the Toll of the Bell.
But wait! I hear the sound of the bell.
Chorus.
Chorus.
Tol de rol lol, &c.
Tol the role lol, &c.
Jailor. Four Women more, Captain, with a Child apiece! See, here they come.
Jailer. Four more women, Captain, each with a child! Look, here they come.
Enter Women and Children.
Enter Women and Children.
Macheath. What—four Wives more!—This is too much—Here—tell the Sheriff’s Officers I am ready. Exit Macheath guarded.
Macheath. What—four more wives!—This is too much—Here—tell the Sheriff’s officers I’m ready. Exit Macheath on guard.
To them, Enter Player and Beggar.
To them, Enter Player and Beggar.
Player. But, honest Friend, I hope you don’t intend that Macheath shall be really executed.
Gamer. But, honestly, my friend, I hope you don’t actually plan on having Macheath executed for real.
Beggar. Most certainly, Sir.—To make the Piece perfect, I was for doing strict poetical Justice.—Macheath is to be hang’d; and for the other Personages of the Drama, the Audience must have suppos’d they were all either hang’d or transported.
Homeless person. Absolutely, Sir.—To make the piece complete, I aimed to do strict poetic justice.—Macheath is set to be hanged, and for the other characters in the play, the audience must have assumed they were all either hanged or banished.
Player. Why then, Friend, this is a downright deep Tragedy. The Catastrophe is manifestly wrong, for an Opera must end happily.
Gamer. So, my friend, this is a really heavy tragedy. The ending is clearly messed up because an opera should end on a happy note.
Beggar. Your Objection, Sir, is very just, and is easily remov’d. For you must allow, that in this kind of Drama, ’tis no matter how absurdly things are brought about—So—you Rabble there—run and cry, A Reprieve!—let the Prisoner be brought back to his Wives in Triumph.
Homeless person. Your point, Sir, is very valid and can be easily addressed. You have to admit that in this type of play, it doesn’t really matter how absurd things get—So—you crowd over there—go on and shout, A Reprieve!—bring the Prisoner back to his Wives in Triumph.
Player. All this we must do, to comply with the Taste of the Town.
Gamer. We have to do all of this to fit in with what everyone likes.
Beggar. Through the whole Piece you may observe such a Similitude of Manners in high and low Life, that it is difficult to determine whether (in the fashionable Vices) the fine Gentlemen imitate the Gentlemen of the Road, or the Gentlemen of the Road the fine Gentlemen.—Had the Play remained, as I at first intended, it would have carried a most excellent Moral. ’Twould have shewn that the lower Sort of People have their Vices in a degree as well as the Rich: And that they are punish’d for them.
Homeless person. Throughout the entire piece, you can see such a similarity in behavior between high and low life that it's hard to tell whether the wealthy gentlemen are copying the rogues or if the rogues are imitating the wealthy gentlemen. If the play had stayed as I originally planned, it would have conveyed a really strong moral. It would have shown that lower-class people also have their vices to a certain extent, just like the rich, and that they face consequences for them.
To them, Macheath with Rabble, &c.
To them, Macheath with Rabble, &c.
Macheath. So, it seems, I am not left to my Choice, but must have a Wife at last.—Look ye, my Dears, we will have no Controversy now. Let us give this Day to Mirth, and I am sure she who thinks herself my Wife will testify her Joy by a Dance.
Mack the Knife. So, it looks like I don’t have a choice after all; I’m stuck with a wife eventually. —Listen up, my dears, let’s not argue about this now. Let’s spend today having fun, and I’m sure the one who believes she’s my wife will show her happiness by dancing.
All. Come, a Dance—a Dance.
All. Come, let's dance.
Macheath. Ladies, I hope you will give me leave to present a Partner to each of you. And (if I may without Offence) for this time, I take Polly for mine.—And for Life, you Slut,—for we were really marry’d.—As for the rest.—But at present keep your own Secret. To Polly.
Macheath. Ladies, I hope you'll let me introduce a partner for each of you. And (if I can do this without offending anyone) this time, I choose Polly as my partner.—And for life, you little vixen,—because we actually got married.—As for the rest.—But for now, keep your own secret. To Polly.
A DANCE.
AIR LXVIII. Lumps of Pudding, &c.
Thus I stand like the Turk, with his Doxies around;
Thus I stand like the Turk, with his ladies around;
From all Sides their Glances his Passion confound;
From all sides, their glances confuse his passion;
For Black, Brown, and Fair, his Inconstancy burns,
For Black, Brown, and Fair, his inconsistency stings,
And the different Beauties subdue him by turns:
And the various beauties captivate him one after another:
Each calls forth her Charms to provoke his Desires:
Each one calls forth her charms to stir his desires:
Though willing to all, with but one he retires.
Though he is open to everyone, he only withdraws with one.
But think of this Maxim, and put off your Sorrow,
But consider this saying, and set aside your sorrow,
The Wretch of To-day, may be happy To-morrow.
The unfortunate person today could be happy tomorrow.
Chorus.
Chorus.
But think of this Maxim, &c.
But consider this maxim, &c.
FINIS.
Printed in Great Britain by
Richard Clay & Sons, Limited,
Bungay, Suffolk.
THE
BEGGAR’S
OPERA.
The Beggar's Opera.
WRITTEN by Mr. GAY.
WRITTEN by Mr. GAY.
To which is Prefixed the
MUSICK to each SONG.
To which is Prefixed the
MUSIC to each SONG.
{Decoration}
{Decoration}
Nos hæc novimus esse nihil.—Mart.
We know this is nothing.—Mart.
LONDON:
WILLIAM HEINEMANN
1921
LONDON:
WILLIAM HEINEMANN
1921
About the Music
The following information is also given in the text file about_the_music in the “Music” directory.
The following information is also provided in the text fileabout the music in the “Music” folder.
The music in the printed book appears to be a hand-written copy of the 1765 original, retaining or adding assorted minor errors. In particular, the use of double bar lines or repeats seems to be almost entirely arbitrary. In the PDF and MIDI files, obvious errors such as missing dots after notes have been corrected, and a few ties have been added. Repeats are used only when required by the lyrics as printed.
The music in the printed book looks like a handwritten copy of the original from 1765, keeping or adding various small mistakes. Specifically, the use of double bar lines or repeats seems pretty random. In the PDF and MIDI files, clear errors like missing dots after notes have been fixed, and some ties have been added. Repeats are used only when needed according to the printed lyrics.
All music files, including the PDF images, are in the “Music” directory. In addition to individual Airs, there are PDF files containing the collected songs for each scene that has more than one song. Air LXVIII (the final song) has been omitted because it takes up a complete page by itself.
All music files, including the PDF images, are in the “Music” folder. Besides individual Airs, there are PDF files with all the songs for each scene that has more than one song. Air LXVIII (the final song) has been left out because it takes up a full page on its own.
Changing the Tempo
If you want to change the tempo of a MIDI file, do this:
If you want to change the tempo of a MIDI file, follow these steps:
Install the lilypond program (free from lilypond.org)
Install the LilyPond program (free from lilypond.org)
Open the file you want to edit (named in the form air_N.ly using the same Roman numerals as in the text) and scroll down to the bottom. The make-moment line works just like a metronome setting. Leave the second number alone—usually a 4 for quarter-note—and make the first number larger or smaller.
Open the file you want to edit (named like air_N.ly using the same Roman numerals as in the text) and scroll down to the bottom. The create moment line functions just like a metronome setting. Leave the second number as is—usually a 4 for quarter notes—and adjust the first number to make it larger or smaller.
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